


Am I Pretty?

by AngeDeLumiere



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeDeLumiere/pseuds/AngeDeLumiere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukimura Aoishi is a recluse but his collection of ancient Japanese icons is worth millions. Asami Ryuichi is hosting the collection for a week at his most prestigious hotel. It is the first time the collection has been on display, so security is tight. And when Yukimura's prize stone kappa is stolen, only Akihito can solve the mystery before Asami and Yukimura clash in a devastating feud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Staging the Show

**Author's Note:**

> This is a serious crack fic, which I know makes no sense. Everyone is going to stay in character, but the situations are going to keep getting more and more ludicrous. I'm hoping it turns out as funny as it is in my head! 
> 
> Thanks to Miyanoai, who beta'd. She is always there for me to troubleshoot with, and to fix my crazy mistakes. As always, thank you! Half of these things would be a jumbled mess with you!
> 
> Hopefully, everybody likes Scooby Doo!

One:

Asami Ryuichi was the Renaissance Man of business. He dabbled in everything, succeeded in much, and had the ability to sense what the market really wanted. Capitalists were ecstatic when he propositioned business ventures. What he touched became a proverbial goldmine. He could host grand galas, make penny stocks worth thousands, and entice even the toughest negotiators to sell. 

When it was announced that Yukimura Aoishi’s collection of ancient Japanese idols was to be on display at the Peninsula Tokyo, the city was green with envy. Yukimura was a recluse. Once a prominent politician and successful entrepreneur, he withdrew from society after a car crash paralyzed him and killed his mistress. The collection was worth nearly a billion yen, and was Yukimura’s life’s work. It would only be on display for a week, but each day had a jam packed schedule. Asami would make a small fortune on the exhibition. More importantly, he could grandstand to his competitors as they salaciously licked their chops during Friday night’s gala. 

Kirishima Kei was up to his eyeballs in work. Yukimura was an intimate friend of Asami’s, so this collection had to be watched with a scrupulous eye. The icons were only to be touched while wearing latex gloves, and by a trained staff. Professor of archeology at Keio University Wanatabe Kenshin was on hand, as was Mori Hiroshi, Yukimura’s personal assistant. 

“Be careful with that!” Mori cried as the workers pried open a large crate. “That is one of the original depictions of the Nue!” 

Mori was a small man, shaped like a bowling ball on stilts. He shared Kirishima’s eye for details, and sweated over every artifact. Literally. He would dab his greasy forehead with a soaked handkerchief as he tottered off to shout at the workers––Wanatabe’s graduate students. 

“And I thought I was supposed to be the obsessive one,” Wanatabe chuckled lightly. He was a thin but sturdy man in his mid-sixties. For one with such a serious job, he smiled frequently. 

“I suppose it’s his career on the line if something happens,” Kirishima smirked. When a grad student with striking blue eyes unwrapped a snarling kappa statue, the secretary nodded and check it off from the inventory. “It goes next to the painting of Amatersau.”

The student nodded and set it down gently on the cushioned stand. Mori shrieked, “Be careful with that! It’s Mr. Yukimura’s favorite piece!”

“Excuse me, Kirishima,” Wanatabe shook his head. “I need to save Takashi.”

Kirishima chuckled indulgently. The archeologist stepped between Mori and his student, who was getting chastised by the sweaty assistant on the priceless nature of the kappa. Two more statues were waiting to be checked off. Asami had tight security for the exhibition. All of the guards were elites, personally selected by Suoh. The security system was state-of-the-art, best money could buy. Also, staff would be on site twenty-four-seven until Kirishima personally escorted the collection back to Yukimura. 

“Kirishima, sir,” Fujioka bowed low to his boss. “They have finished unloading the trucks.” Only graduate students trained in the delicate nature of the icons were allowed to touch them. The guards could only watch and hope that nothing happened. 

Kirishima flipped through several pages on his clipboard until he found the itinerary. “Excellent. Have the students begun to oil the statues yet?” The antiques were extraordinarily old, so they required constant upkeep to preserve them. 

“Yes, sir. Dr. Wanatabe is supervising them now,” Fujioka replied. “He thinks it will be another ninety minutes before they are ready to leave.”

Kirishima nodded. “Perfect.” Saho was making dinner, a miracle in itself, and he promised to be home on time. Not that Fujioka needed to know that. 

The lights flickered before shutting off. A cold chill ran down his spin. The instincts of a man who had cheated death countless times flared to life. His clipboard clattered to the ground as he crouched down, going for his gun––which he didn’t have. 

A loud howl echoed in the room, and a woman screamed, “Oh my God!”

In the rafters, skeletal like a ribcage on the vaulted ceiling, a shadowy figure crouched. It jumped down, landing so hard that the statues shook. “Am I pretty?” it wailed. 

People were screaming. Graduate students ran towards the exits as Kirishima and his men surged forward. It was a woman, her chest bear and a nurse’s scrubs on her legs. She was astoundingly beautiful, with chocolate hair and eyes as blue as the sky. Her mouth had been sliced open. The cuts curled grotesquely up her face just below her ears. Fresh blood, black in the moonlight, dripped down her neck onto a creamy breast. 

She lunged forward, grabbing a young girl by the arm. “Do you think I’m pretty?” she shouted. 

The girl screamed in terror. 

“Mother fucker,” swore Fujioka. 

“That can’t be real!” another guard gasped. 

Kirishima swore. He really should have had all the men carry their concealed firearms. He thought robbers might attack the exhibit, not the Kuchisake-onna. Monsters weren’t real, and he would be damned if he let some prankster touch one of the priceless artifacts. 

The monster threw the girl into the Amatersau display. Mori shouted and dove for the painting before it hit he floor. The display shattered, cutting the girl’s body to ribbons, but at least he saved the painting. Kirishima grabbed his penknife and tried to fight through the swarming students. 

The Kuchisake-onna threw her head back. “I’m not ugly!”

“Stop her!” Wanatabe’s voice sounded over the din. The creature aligned glass at the unconscious girl’s face, ready to give her matching scars. 

One grad student––Takashi––had stayed behind. “Keiko!” he leapt forward and knocked the shard from the creature’s hand. The Kuchisake-onna reeled backwards, shrieking incoherently. Takashi scooped Keiko up in his arms “I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered. “Taki’s got you.”

Taking two steps back, the Kuchisake-onna ran full speed, jumping high over the couple. Her pallid fingers were outstretched, reaching for the statue of the Nue. “It’s mine!” she snarled. “So pretty, like me!”

“No!” Kirishima thrust the penknife into her hand. He knew it. It wasn’t the Kuchisake-onna. It was a thief, trying to distract them with a mask and subterfuge. 

The thief shrieked in pain. She fell away from the stone Nue, clutching her hand. “You!” she glared at Kirishima, who towered over her. 

“It’s over,” he reached for the naked woman to restrain her. 

“Never!” she kicked her leg out, swiping Kirishima’s leg out from under him. “I’ll get my revenge!” she cackled, scurrying up the wall and into the rafters. “He did this to me! I’m still pretty!”

And the lights flickered back on as the Kuchisake-onna’s declarations reverberated in the ballroom. However, she had disappeared. 

“Oh no! This is bad! This is bad!” Mori sounded panicked. “The exhibit! The collection! Did that beast touch anything?”

The students were still pressed against the walls or in the corners, looking for safety in numbers. The guards were forming a tight ring around the artifacts, with Takashi and Keiko in the center. The girl was bleeding profusely in her boyfriend’s arms. 

“Keiko! Baby!” her boyfriend called to her, shaking her limp body. “Somebody call an ambulance!”

Wanatabe helped Kirishima to his feet. Both men stared at the empty ceiling. “What the fuck was that?” he asked. 

“I have no idea,” Kirishima answered. They had just been attacked by the Kuchisake-onna, the bleeding demon woman. He glanced at Keiko. She had already claimed one victim, and swore revenge on them. Perhaps on him. Two things were certain: she was coming back, and Asami would not believe him.


	2. The Monster Strikes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Miyanaoi who beta'd for me. And thank you everyone who waited patiently for an update. I have an explanation in the end notes. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter Two:

“I don’t get why this is such a big deal,” Kou whined as Akihito’s camera flashed. 

The brunette had come with the photographer to the Yukimura Antiquity Exhibition: A History of Japanese Art. Akihito had to admit that it was not the most thrilling assignment of his career. Changing the angle of his shot to make sure that the flash did not soften the image was not nearly as awesome as running from yakuza thugs who wanted to pound your face in. But Asami was after him to take some safe jobs and this one paid well. There was even talk of a photo book. 

“You didn’t have to come,” he reminded the brunette. He smiled and motioned for the kindergarten class to stand in front of the small stone kappa. “Big smiles, everyone!”

“You said there would be hot girls,” his friend pouted. 

“I said there would be hostesses,” Akihito checked out the photo on his camera’s screen. “I never said they were hot.”

“I know you’re gay, but you’re a photographer,” Kou crossed his arms. “You should know what a hot girl looks like.”

Akihito quickly snapped a shot of two boys giggling at the funny chimera. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“Ooh dude, she’s cute!” Kou tapped his shoulder excitedly. “And she’s got a great rack!”

“Quit perving on the teacher!” snapped Akihito. Grabbing Kou by the arm, Akihito drug his friend over to the corner, just in front of the stone kappa... “There are kiddy ears present!”

“I love me a sexy teacher,” Kou shook his ragged head. “Hey! Hey!” he grabbed at a group of kids who were scampering by. They clutched their scavenger hunts in their grubby hands, and whispered as they tried to decipher the clues. “What’s your teacher’s name?”

“You mean Mrs. Hamasaki?” a kid with a bowl cut and glasses asked in a squeaky voice. 

“Damn, she’s married,” Kou patted the boy’s shoulder before waving him and his friends away. “All the hot ones are.”

“That’s how it always is,” Akihito didn’t pay too much attention to his friend. Kou griped about the same thing all the time. He pretty much knew the upcoming tirade by heart. He was getting frustrated with the last few pictures. He needed to adjust his flash since the lights kept dimming. 

A piercing shriek rattled the room. The crowd fell silent for a brief pause. And then the kids started to scream. 

*

Asami Ryuichi was thankful that he was able to control his expressions. Otherwise, his jaw would be touching the floor. He listened to his stoic secretary report his account for the fifth time, with terrifying exactness. It matched up perfectly with the security footage, and his shaking security guards. 

Clearly, there was a half naked woman on the tape. She appeared from the dark ceiling, like a shadow. “Slow it down,” Asami instructed Matsuoka, the video tech. “Can you zoom in on her?”

“Yes sir,” Matsuoka nodded as his fingers flew on the keyboard. 

No matter how many times he watched the footage, the fixer never saw the woman’s face. She seemed to know where the security cameras were, and adjusted her face accordingly. 

“No DNA, no fingerprints, nothing?” Suoh did not bother to look at the screen. He had seen this so much; it played on his eyelids at night. He focused on the not compiled file, instead. 

“Nothing,” Kirishima cleaned his lenses methodically. “It was like she was never there.”

“We need to get into the room,” Suoh was saying, but Asami did not listen to him. He focused solely on the woman, who was not visible until the lights went out. He was pleased that his men talked about this woman like the human she was, and not some mythological demon. 

“How long until the exhibit closes?” Asami asked. “Move to the end. I want to watch her exit.”

Matsuoka obeyed. 

“Three more hours,” Kirishima answered without having to check the schedule. “Then it closes until the press conference at eight.” They had not closed the exhibit less they alert the press that something was amiss. They did not want to play into the mystery woman’s hands in any way possible. 

“Security has been tightened, Asami-sama,” Suoh added. “We have twelve guards stationed currently.”

“Twelve?” That had Asami’s attention. “We started off the day with nine.”

“Takaba is at the exhibit working,” Suoh explained. He stood firm under Asami’s intense scrutiny. “I thought it prudent to have extra men on the floor while he was there, just in case.”

Yes, it was. His little lover was the greatest trouble magnet he had ever met. With the photographer’s luck, something worse than a Kuchisake-onna imposter would appear. The Bubonic plague, for example. “Keep a close eye on him,” Asami instructed. 

Suoh nodded, “Yes sir.”

“Asami-sama!” Matsuoka interrupted. “Sir, there’s––”

Asami whirled around to look at the monitor. Suoh’s phone was ringing loudly. Kirishima swore. The woman was back. 

*

“The fuck is that!” Kou shouted. 

Little kids ran in chaotic swirls, screaming. Their teacher tried to corral them, but they were everywhere. 

“Kurosaki! Hisegawa! Akina!” Mrs. Hamasaki was shouting. She chased them, ducking but arms outstretched. 

A half naked woman dropped down from the ceiling. Blood ripped from her face, and down her naked breasts. For a moment, Akihito thought she was injured. Then she wheeled around, stringy hair flying and her face all cut up. That was when he knew. 

“Kuchisake-onna!” one of the kiddies screamed

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“I don’t think so!” Akihito shouted. Grabbing his camera, he smacked the monster with it. She reeled back, shouting, blinded by the camera’s flash. He pushed the children to the side, where their teacher waited with open arms. 

The guards finally jumped into action. They had been focusing on getting the kindergarteners out of the room, and securing all exits. Once they realized that their boss’s lover was present, they quickly changed objectives.

“Takaba-san!”

“Furuta!” Akihito sighed in relief. 

“I’m pretty!” the monster screamed again. “Prettier than you!” she leered at Mrs. Hamasaki. 

“Get her!” one of the men commanded. “Stop her!”

“Am I pretty?” the Kuchisake-onna shouted. 

The room went pitch black. Akihito froze, his fingers shaking as he held his camera. He felt very alone in the inky darkness. 

“Akihito, where are you man?” Kou’s disembodied voice echoed. 

“Kou?” 

“Takaba-san!”

“I’m still here,” Akihito jumped when he brushed against someone cold. “Who’s there?”

“Over here, man,” Kou was somewhere to his right. Definitely not who touched him. Making a split second decision, he snapped a quick picture. The flash lit up the room so quickly that it blinded everyone. 

“Fuck dude!” Kou swore. 

“Sorry.”

The lights flickered and hummed as they came back on. Akihito’s mouth dropped. They stood in a circle, facing center. Many of the security men had their hands inside their jackets, ready to draw their illegal guns. 

“Hey man,” Kou, who was on his right, tapped his shoulder. When Akihito saw his pale face, he followed Kou’s finger that pointed over his shoulder. “It’s gone.”

Akihito whirled around. Sure enough, the stone kappa was missing.

*

“Are you okay?” Asami asked the moment he saw the photographer. Akihito was put in the corner of the room with Kou while they waited for Asami to show up. 

The school children had long gone, crying until they were soothed with candy. Mrs. Hamasaki was a little harder to bribe, but at the end of the day, she was thankful that her students were safe. 

“No, no I’m not!” the photographer grabbed his forehead. “I’m totally freaking out!”

“Akihito,” Asami reached for the younger man. 

“Don’t worry about me,” the photographer held his hands up “I’ll be fine.”

“Asami-sama” Kirishima was staring at the ceiling.

The crime lord glanced over his shoulder. “Stay with them,” he instructed Furuta, before joining his men. All three were now looking up. “What is it?”

“Look at that,” the bespectacled man pointed to a small air vent high up in the rafters. “This could be her escape route.”

“It isn’t visible from any camera angle, either,” Suoh noted. “She must be intimately familiar with the hotel.”

“Let’s get some cameras up here. I want eye in case she comes back,” Asami stroked his chin as he thought out loud. “And find out where this leads to. We might have caught our thief on a different camera.” It wasn’t likely. The woman was meticulous. It was likely that if she had mapped out the cameras in the hotel, she would be aware of the surrounding viewpoints as well. 

“I’ll have a full work up run,” Suoh assured him. 

“Is anything else missi––”

“What have you done?” The accusatory shout echoed in the large room. Akihito whirled around to see a short, balding man running carefully between the exhibits, his eyes glued to Asami. Running was probably too generous a term: he seemed more to be waddling, his large girth jiggling in his haste. His face was blood red. 

“Mori-san, you need to calm down,” Suoh stepped between the irate assistant and Asami. He held his hands up in an effort to calm the man, but Akihito knew that having his hands up let Suoh react quicker if Mori should try something. “Asami-sama is not responsible for––”

“He is, too!” Mori cut the monstrous guard off. “You took full responsibility for the entire collection when you signed the contract with Yukimura-sama! I have a copy of it in here!” He held up a dark brown briefcase. “You were supposed to protect the artifacts with your very life! 

“And now look what you’ve done! The press is outside, clamoring about some monster that is attacking the exhibit and our patrons!”

“It isn’t a real monster,” Suoh assured him. “The thief was in disguise––”

“Thief?” shrieked the short man. Suoh glared, displeased to have been cut off again. “You mean she actually took something?” Mori didn’t wait for Asami or Suoh to confirm it. He started sweating bullets as he waved his hand in front of his face, trying to cool off. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Yukimura-sama is going to be furious. He loves these relics more than his own life. He’ll never forgive me. He’ll never forgive you either, Asami!”

“Yukimura does not need to worry about it,” Asami stayed calm, despite the man’s fury. “He will have his entire collection returned to him intact, the stone kappa included, as per the contract.” 

“They had better be or else,” Mori started to threaten, but he stopped short, eyes wide and mouth dropping, as Asami walked straight past him. “Hey! Where are you going?” 

“Kirishima, send the security feeds to Sion,” Asami buttoned his suit jacket. “Get a look at everyone who came into the hotel, and make sure they left. Our thief may have come in as an ordinary guest.”

“Of course, Asami-sama,” Kirishima already had two men sifting through the hours of security tapes, but it never hurt to let Asami to give the order anyway. 

“Suoh, manage the press,” Asami was a few feet from Akihito. “Everything stays internal.”

“Internal?” Mori interrupted again. Suoh ground his teeth. Yukimura’s assistant was one word away from getting punched in the throat if he did not let the big guy talk. Even Akihito could tell it was coming. “We have to inform the police! The insurance company! We need to find that kappa!” 

“I’ll have the men keep them back,” Suoh pretended Mori did not talk. It was easier to ignore the man and focus on his breathing that it would be to break Mori’s jaw. Though it would have to be wired shut in order for it to heal properly, and that meant the irking man would not be able to speak. It was an attractive notion. 

“Are you listening to me, Asami?” Mori started after them. “I represent Yukimura-sama in this enterprise, so I have a say in what we do to find the statue!”

Suoh turned on his heel, fist clenched. Oh yeah, Mori’s jaw was getting broken. Kou stepped forward, eager to see the mammoth in a fight. Asami stopped walking. “No, Suoh. Let him be,”

Suoh’s hand dropped instantly and Kou’s shoulder deflated. “Ahh man,” the brunette muttered. Mori looked lost, unknowingly seconds away from months of agony. 

“Akihito,” Asami stopped beside him. He did not turn to face the photographer, but his boy knew him too well. There was a heaviness to his shoulders, a cloud of anger around him. He was pissed. “I’m afraid I’ll be working late tonight. Furuta and Nakao will be seeing you home.” 

Translation: There would be no date night to the new Italian place that had just opened up, and Asami wanted him to stay in the penthouse. Akihito really did not feel like chasing crime after what he had just witnessed. He stared at the blood drops that trailed over the room. God, he had never seen such a warped face before. “Okay Asami. I’ll have dinner waiting,” he clutched his camera tightly. He contemplated throwing the SD card away when they got back to the condo.

“My name is Detective Keitomaro,” a thick man burst through the double doors at the end of the ballroom. He was flanked by a dozen men in uniform with surly expressions and squared shoulders. “We received a call about a stolen statue and––”

“Your services will not be required,” Asami shoved past the police officer. “Get them out of my hotel, Suoh.”

“You heard the man, gentlemen,” Suoh stood about six inches taller than Keitomaro, and his arms were as thick as the detective’s head. The man paled, not really wanting to fight such a colossal man in order to do his civic duty. 

The fixer’s mind churned as he walked down the stone steps of the building, trying to figure out where the leak came from. He knew that his men would not tell the press or call the police, and there would be hell to pay if it was one of the hotel’s staff. It was too soon for the kindergarten teacher to have made any calls, though she would undoubtedly have furious parents phoning her. It had to be one of Wanatabe’s graduate students, or one of the few other visitors that witnessed the theft. Kirishima had gotten all of their names, and handed out the appropriate bribes, so that angle should have been resolved. 

It was also possible that the thief had alerted the press, in order to strain his relationship with Yukimura. However, that would make it more challenging for her to steal anything else, should she be so inclined. He met Kirishima’s gaze. Asami could tell that his secretary and longtime friend was thinking the exact same thing. He nodded quickly, silently promising that he would personally find the leak. The fixer was confident that his man could handle the job.

Asami lifted his arm, shielding his eyes from the flashing cameras. The press would be dealt with in time, but they would be a nuisance for the duration of the exhibit. Hopefully Akihito would have the sense to stay out of this whole mess. Furuta would see them home, and would stand guard until Asami could make it back to the condo.

*

Akihito watched his lover leave. There was a crease between his eyes that was usually absent. Mori was swearing, demanding that the cops be allowed to investigate as Suoh and a few others manhandled them out the door. The way Mori talked, Yukimura Aoishi would put the hurt on Asami if the kappa was not found, and Akihito was suddenly worried for his lover. 

“Come on, Aki,” Kou nudged him out the side door. “Let’s go before Mori starts yelling at us.”   
“I believe that would be a good idea,” Furuta agreed. He would be the one seeing the boys home. 

“Yeah,” Akihito swallowed. “Okay.” The photographer walked toward the back loading docks of the hotel. With a little luck, the press would not be waiting there since Asami left out the main entrance. Right now, Akihito wanted to slip away unnoticed and get back to the safety of the condo. He had tried to calm himself by editing his pictures while they waited for Asami to show, but that had failed miserably. 

The corridors were empty. The staff had all been corralled in one of the conference rooms for interviews. Somebody had to know something. Akihito clutched his camera as he nearly ran. He wanted to get out of the there, away from the craziness. His phone was vibrating in his pocket––it had been for the pasty twenty minutes. It was either Mitarai or his boss, someone who knew that he was photographing the exhibit and would have an inside scoop. 

“Horo has the car pulled around, waiting for you sirs,” Furuta said softly. “Just turn right at the end of the hall.”

Akihito nodded, “Thanks.”

Around the corner, there was a maid pushing a cart. She had stopped in the middle of the hallway to argue with a goon in a suit. “I’m sorry ma’am but you can’t be here,” the man was saying. “Asami-sama wants everyone to wait in the conference rooms until the interviews have been conducted.”

“I told you, I already gave my interview!” the woman shouted right back at the man, unintimidated by his bulging arms and dark sunglasses. “I have work to do. I get paid by how much I get done, and I won’t let Asami-san stiff me my money because of some cock and bull story about a damn monster!”

“You don’t have a choice. Go back to the room, or be fired immediately,” the goon frowned. 

“That isn’t fair! You can’t do this to me!”

“Is there a problem, Saito?” Nakao stepped forward. 

“No, sir,” Saito took the cart from the maid. “I was just about to escort her back to the conference room to wait.”

“Give me that back!” the maid pulled her work cart back towards her. “I have to get back to work. My manager doesn’t like it when my job doesn’t get done.”

“Asami-sama has ordered that everyone is to wait to be dismissed,” Nakao told the maid. “If your manager is upset, tell him that he can speak with Asami-sama directly.”

The maid bit her lip. “I don’t know if Yonosuke-san will like that,” she muttered lowly. 

“Saito, have a talk with Yonosuke,” instructed Nakao. “Make sure that she does not get into trouble for the lockdown.”

“Yes sir,” Saito bowed. He gestured to the maid, who started to walk down the hallway with her shoulders still tensed. They turned the corner before Furuta spoke. 

“I haven’t seen Saito before,” he said to Nakao. “How do you know him?”

“New hire. He’s only been on the job a couple of weeks,” Nakao shrugged and they started walking to the exit doors. “He was lost at Sion, and I told him how to find Suoh’s office.”

Furuta glanced back over his shoulder. Something about Saito unsettled him, but he had no business voicing such thoughts to his peers. Or in front of the boss’s lover. Akihito saw the consternation that briefly flickered over Furuta’s face. He felt the same way about Saito. 

“Get in the car please, Takaba-san,” Nakao opened the of a black SUV. “We’ll take you gentlemen back to your homes.”

“Thanks for the ride,” Kou said as he buckled his seatbelt. “I appreciate it.”

Furuta smiled thinly. “It is our privilege.”

*  
Akihito had six missed calls and four voicemails by the time he got back to the condo. They were all from his editor. His boss was talking loudly and quick, something about a monster hunt. Great, a TV show was looking into the appearance of the infamous Kuchisake-onna. 

He was more worried about Asami. He had not heard of this Yukimura Aoishi before, but his lover was concerned. That meant that this guy had some chops, and could cause Asami problems if he was angry. The theft of the stone kappa statue was a serious issue, and Akihito really could not think of a way to help his lover. 

“––and there’s a one hundred thousand yen reward! Isn’t that great?” Iwata chattered on happily. 

Akihito’s stomach dropped to the floor. He quickly woke up his phone and rewound the message, but he didn’t need to. He knew exactly what Iwata had said. The newspapers were offering a substantial reward for a verifiable picture of the Kuchisake-onna. It meant that reporters and treasure hunters would flock to the hotel. It would be a media circus, and every eye in Tokyo would be fixated on Asami Ryuichi as he searched for the statue. That was the last thing he needed. 

Tossing his phone on the counter, the photographer lifted his camera to his eye. He quickly scrolled through the pictures until he came to the last few. It was the picture he had taken in the dark when he felt something bump him. A white face snarled at the screen, eyes scrunched and the cut up mouth sneered. It looked like a bleeding corpse was clawing at his screen. 

He had the winning photo right here in his camera. And Akihito wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it, or the Kuchisake-onna that terrorized Tokyo.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I would like to thank everyone for their patience. Updates will continue to be slow. 
> 
> We had buckets and buckets, over two feet of snow here, and on one such day, a semi ran Cam and myself off the road. In case you haven't read Seraglio, Cam is my wonderful boyfriend who beta'd for that story, and swore he never wanted to read another thing I ever wrote. It was a bad wreck, no lie. We rolled down a hill and the SUV landed wheels up. Cam broke both of his legs, one femur and two tibias. I broke my nose, and my wrist. Cam spent three weeks in the hospital because they were worried that he would get blood clots. They apparently occur frequently because of femur breaks.
> 
> Cam is out now, but he is stuck in his second floor apartment. We don't live together, so I can't take care of him as much as I would like. I'm back at work, but he isn't. He is going stir crazy, because he can't even walk right now. Dylan, his roomie, has been a saint. I don't know what we would do if he wasn't in the picture. We're asking the apartment complex to either let him out of his lease early (do to extenuating circumstances) or move them to a wheelchair accessible apartment. I stay over as much as I can, but I can't be there twenty-four seven. 
> 
> In conclusion, updates are going to be slooooowwwwwwwww. I'm usually exhausted by the time I get home (if I make it here), and I really don't feel like writing gore and drama right now. Thank you for your patience, and to all the writers of fluff, I have never loved your stories as much as I do at the moment. 
> 
> God bless and happy spring.


	3. Akihito Investigates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Miyanoai for beta-ing. I'm kind of done with this story (it no longer interests me) but I want finish it. Ergo, I am pumping out the chapters on this. It should be finished before too terribly long. 
> 
> Also, I want to send a special thanks to Miss Rylin. You are an absolute angel, and I love reading your reviews. Thank you so much for your kind words, and well wishes. Cam sends his love as well.

Chapter Three: 

Bright lights flashed, the camera clicks echoing the great room. The roiling throng shot questions quicker than Asami could process, let alone answer them. Not that they cared.    
“Is it true that the Kuchisake-onna tried–––“

“––your relationship with Yukimura Aoishi is strained?”

“––stone kappa from the sixth century––“

“––stolen!?”

“We are here to talk about the exposition, not a woman in a mask,” Asami’s magnified voice barely resonated about the clamor. Most of the reporters had the sense to shut up and let him speak. “We are conducting our own investigation alongside the police department. That is all I am going to say on the matter.”

He held up his hands, staving off any questions about the urban myth coming to life. The reporters did not listen to him, unsurprisingly. Most did not know to fear him like the elite of Tokyo, and kept pushing his buttons. A few would come to regret it. “So you think it was a thief in disguise, and not a real monster?” one of those with upcoming regrets shouted in the brief silence. 

Asami sighed. He flicked his wrist towards Kirishima, who made a note of the man’s name and newspaper. They would be visiting him later. “It is a person playing in the paranoia of the public, much like you. I cannot speculate his motives––”

“How did Yukimura Aoishi take the news of the theft?” a woman’s voice was barely audible above the din. Kirishima did not need to be told to add another name to the list. 

“We have decided to keep the exhibit open to the public,” the fixer announced. He gripped the wooden podium tightly as he spoke. The flashing lights were giving him a migraine as he squinted at the masses. He looked for Akihito’s bright blond hair, but his boy was nowhere to be found. He would be stunned if Akihito listened to him for once, and stayed at the condo. “It is too valuable of an opportunity to squander, and we will not cower in the face of wrongdoers.” 

There, he had steered the questions back to the exhibit. He signaled for the next question. 

“Does Detective Keitomaro have any suspects at this time?”

Dammit. “I cannot divulge any information about ongoing investigations,” Asami stated firmly. “Only questions about the exhibit please.”

Kirishima had planted several men in the crowd. Should the press conference get out of hand, they were to get it back on track. Asami was seriously contemplating breaking their kneecaps when one had the sense to speak up. 

“What made Yukimura-san decide to display his collection now?”

Gold eyes flashed as the fixer answered the question with political correctness. The public never wanted to hear how much money he was going to make off this, or how Yukimura was using it as a taunt to fellow collector Kitahara Soujiro. They wanted to know how it benefited them: provided the opportunity to see rare artifacts, generated revenue from tourism, and taught their kids about ancient Japanese culture. The good of the community over the good of a few. Slowly, they corralled the press and kept talking about the pieces, not some idiot in a mask. 

*

“Do you really think Asami is in trouble?” Kou asked bit dubiously. He sat with Akihito and Takato in the photographer’s living room, drinking beer and eating pizza. The stomach-wrenching photo glow brightly on the laptop screen, staring at them. No one really wanted to eat the pizza because of the gruesome scene. “I mean, he’s such a power house.”

“I know,” Akihito sighed, taking another swig of his beer. “He’s worried. I can tell. This statue is worth a lot of money, even by his standards, and I doubt Yukimura is going to be understanding.”

“It’s not like he could plan for a demon to steal it,” Kou shrugged. “It’s a stunt out of a horror movie, if you think about it. I don’t think people plan for that kind of thing.”

Takato shrugged. “He’s got a point.”

Akihito bit his lip. “I don’t think that’s how business works,” he informed them. “According to Mori-san, Asami accepted full responsibility for the entire collection, and he is liable for the kappa.” 

“What about insurance? Won’t it just be Asami’s insurance company that pays for it, not Asami himself?” Takato had the best head on his shoulders out of all of them. He knew how the adult world ran, and what questions to ask. Thank goodness he was there to explain things to Akihito and Kou. 

“Asami owns the insurance company,” Akihito sulked. “He’s going to have to pay, no matter what.”

Kou’s face wrinkled. “He’ll only have to pay if they can’t find the statue,” he corrected his friend. “Right? That’s how I thought it worked.”

Takato nodded. “Right. I would bet anything that not only are the police and Asami’s men looking for it, but the insurance company and Yukimura’s too. That is a lot of people with twice as many eyes.” 

“Plus, Japan isn’t a big island. It isn't like the person could sell it without getting a ton of attention,” Kou pointed out. He took a bite of his pepperoni pizza. His stomach was cast iron, and his appetite was coming back with a vengeance. 

“It’d be stupid to sell it now, with the entire country looking for it,” argued Takato. He scratched the back of his head. “If this guy is smart, he’ll have to wait years or sell it on eBay or something.”

“Maybe the black market,” Akihito agreed. He finished his beer and belched loudly. “That’s what I would do.”

“What do we know about this Yukimura Aoishi?” Takato scooted to the edge of the sofa. Dragging his finger across the trackpad, he woke up the computer and quickly minimized the terrifying picture. “He’s got to be a big wig if he is dealing with Asami-san.”

Akihito leaned in close to the laptop. “He used to be. Now he is just some rich, old guy. He is a total history buff. Ryu said that it was only part of his collection that they put on display. Some of the things that did not match the rest of the collection were left at his house.” 

“Some people have too much money,” Kou grumbled. “It’s not fair to the rest of us.”

“Life isn’t, so shut up,” Takato was used to his friend’s whining. It was easier to tell Kou to get over himself than it was to pretend to care. They all were poor together, and they were happy that way. “Have you thought about selling your picture? A hundred thousand yen is a lot of money.”

Akihito shook his head, “I know but I don’t think I’m going to. It would only make things harder on Ryu.”

“You could use the money to pay for the kappa,” suggest Kou brightly. 

“Pretty sure it costs more than that,” Akihito rubbed his eyes. 

“I’m surprised that Asami-san hasn’t shut down the show yet,” Takato confessed. He pulled up the special website Kirishima constructed for the event. “It seems like keeping it going will just make it an even bigger media circus.”

“No. He’s going to want to recoup all the money he can,” Akihito leaned back into the plushy pillows. “Plus, if he keeps it open, he has a better shot at catching the thief.”

“You think he’s coming back then?” Takato whistled lowly. “That’s ballsy.”

“I’d bet my camera on it,” the photographer replied. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the Kuchisake-onna yet.”

*

Asami didn’t come home that night, not that Akihito was too surprised by that. If something big happened, the fixer usually went into overdrive until the problem was solved. Akihito had already had a long conversation with Kirishima about it. Under no circumstances was he to let Asami work more than forty-eight hours consecutively. He was to put his foot down and drag the man kicking and screaming back to Akihito. Kirishima had vehemently swore to abide by Takaba’s wishes, but so far the command had not be tested. 

They were fifty-three hours into the debacle, and no Asami in sight. The fixer was not even answering his cell because he knew what Akihito wanted. Kirishima was also shutting him out because he knew that Akihito was angry. Furious. Apoplectic even and he did not want to sit through the pathetic excuse of a tongue lashing that the photographer could dole out. Coward. 

Akihito quickly realized that it was going to be up to him to solve the case and get Asami home. He was going to have to solve the case and unmask the Kuchisake-onna so that Asami would finally come home to sleep. And by that Akihito meant fuck like rabbits until neither one of them could walk. 

“This is such a bad idea,” Kou whispered loudly even though there was nobody around them. “We’re gonna die.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Akihito hissed at his friend. He was whispering too, as they walked down the back corridors of the Peninsula Tokyo Hotel. He had swiped a key from one of the maids who was taking a smoke break. The security had definitely increased since the theft, but the guards were slowly starting to lax. They believed that the worst was over, or that the thief would not be bold enough to stroll down the hallway. 

“And leave you to die alone? What kind of friend would I be then?”

“We’re not gonna die,” Akihito snapped crossly. “Come on. Let’s scope out the exhibit.”

“What are we looking for, anyway?” Kou gripped his flashlight tightly. Akihito was not even sure why he brought it. It was two-fifteen in the afternoon, and the sun shone brightly though the windows. 

“Clues,” Akihito shrugged. He wasn’t really sure what they were looking for either, but he knew that he would know it when he saw it. That was how he did half of his investigative journalism. He knew what was normal and what was atypical, even if he had never been somewhere before. “Ssh! Listen!” Akihito put a finger to his lips. Muffled voices echoed around the bend in the hallway. “Do you hear that? It sounds like an argument.”

Kou gave his friend a look that screamed, ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ and the photographer flushed. He was getting way too into the sleuthing. His best friend wagged his hand. “C’mon. Let’s get closer.”

Whoever was arguing was around the corner, and there was no way they could see who the two men were without giving themselves away. Akihito had seen enough detective shows to know that would not help them solve the case. He scratched his head in frustrated consternation, when Kou snapped his fingers. Pulling out his cell phone, the brunet switched on the phone’s front camera. Peeking the edge of the lens around the corner, it let them see everything with HD clarity. 

“Asami Ryuichi isn’t a man to cross!” a thin man leered down at a pudgy man in a cheap suit. “Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

Akihito recognized the man in the security uniform immediately. It was Saito, the man who had argued with the maid a few days prior. Nakao said that he had been a new hire at Sion. He didn’t recognize the other man though. 

“We’re talking about my son!” the man in the suit hissed. “I’m not going to let some silly rumor stop me from helping him! He has a family to provide for now!”

“What do you want me to do, Yonosuke? I just got this job, and already people are suspicious. I heard that Furuta was asking for my personnel file! I haven’t been here even a month! I have a family to take care of, too! I can’t risk it all for your son!” cried Saito. Akihito furrowed his brow. He liked Furuta. The guard was built like a barrel, and he liked to laugh. If Akihito had any big assignments, Furuta always went with him. For the laid back man to distrust Saito was a major red flag as far as the photographer was concerned. 

“We’re cousins! That makes him your family too!” the hotel manager argued. 

“Who has a record! You’re both idiots if you think you can trick Asami Ryuichi!”

Saito turned to leave, but Yonosuke grabbed his arm. “Please, Reiji. I need your help. He’s in too deep now. He needs a friend on the inside.”

“If Asami finds out––“ the security guard’s fear was evident, making him choke on his own words. 

“He won’t, Reiji. I promise,” Yonosuke swore vehemently. 

“Fine,” Saito jerked free of his cousin’s grasp. “I’ll see what I can do. Now you have to let me get back to work. I’ve been gone too long already. Furuta doesn’t need another reason to hate me.”

“Okay okay,” Yonosuke and Saito split up. 

“Shit, they’re coming this way!” Kou hissed. 

Akihito’s hand fumbled on the wall. By chance, a doorknob turned. “In here!” he jerked Kou into the broom closet. “Quick!” Every instinct in his body told him to slam the door shut hard. But that would alert Saito to their presence, and the last thing he wanted was to be dragged to Asami. Even worse, if Saito really was going to betray Asami, then he would want to tie up any loose ends that might alert the fixer. Permanently. The door did not even click as it shut. 

“That was close,” Kou whispered as the man’s footsteps faded. 

Akihito nodded. “Tell me about it,” he pulled out his phone. “I wonder what all that was about.”

“It sounded like Yonosuke’s son is trying to scam Asami,” Kou bit his lip. 

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” Akihito admitted. “And if Furuta distrusts Saito…” his voice trailed off, but the implication hung heavy in the air. 

“I know you like him,” Kou peaked out the crack in the door, looking to see if the coast was clear. “But do you trust his judgment?”

“I do,” Akihito typed a note to himself to look into Yonosuke’s son.

“Then maybe we should tell him about this,” Kou suggested. “He’s close to Saito, and if already suspects that something is fishy, he’ll take your tip seriously.”

“Maybe,” Akihito agreed even though he really did not intend to tell anyone anything until he knew more about the situation. “Let’s get to the atrium. The exhibit is still open. I want a look at that air vent Asami was talking about.”

“And we can tell Furuta what we overheard!” Kou grinned, pleased that they were making headway in the case. If things kept going smoothly, they could be done by dinner. 

*

“Does this not seem absolutely ludicrous to anyone else?” Asami paced back and forth. He had spent the past three days either in his office at Sion or in the security office of the Peninsula Tokyo. They were nowhere close to catching the culprit. The security footage turned up nothing. It looked like the thief exited the ducts in the laundry room, waiting until the steam was too thick for them get a clear picture of his face. All that they saw a blurry silhouette of thin, short man. 

“What do you want me to say?” Kirishima rubbed his eyes with his palms. His glasses had been shoved up on his forehead, as he tried his best to stay awake. Damn, he was so tired. No one had gone home since the Kuchisake-onna had reared its head. They were all exhausted, and nearly blind from staring at the same security footage over and over and over again. Waiting to see the one little detail that they had all missed. It was the smallest of things that could lead to the biggest breakthroughs, and if they could catch a break, the relic would be theirs. 

At the moment, every single lead turned out to be a dead end. 

“I know it’s fake, and you know it’s fake, but we can’t prove it. It disappears into the steam, and no one enters the laundry room for another half hour,” Kirishima ranted. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Are you certain it is fake?”Matsuoka, who had become increasingly comfortable around the big shots of Sion, dared to ask. His voice was still tentative, but he no longer stared at his own shadow. “This is Japan, and most of the populace believes in spirits and demons.” He did not include himself verbally, but it was blatant that he did believe in the supernatural. 

“Yes,” Suoh snapped. It had to be a man in a mask because his frayed nerves couldn’t handle the damn creature being real. 

“An urban myth from the fifties would have no interest in a relic circa 600,” snapped Kirishima as he tossed his hands into the air the way Saho would when she was exasperated. Great, now he was turning into a woman onto everything else. “It makes even less sense than  
someone dressing up in a costume to rob the exhibit!”

“We operate as if it is a man in a mask until proven otherwise,” Asami’s voice rumbled in his chest. He threw back a glass of water. It soothed his parched throat, but did not have the same soothing analgesia as brandy. However, he could not afford to have anything impairing his sense while he hunted the thief down. 

“Roll back the tape!” Kirishima lunged for the monitor. Matsuoka jumped, slapping the keyboard frenetically. Face flushed, the tech cleared his throat and quickly did as the CFO demanded. 

“Stop!” the bespectacled man demanded. “Asami-sama, Suoh, look at that,” he pointed to a flickering shadow. 

“It’s a shadow,” Suoh peered at the computer screen for his friend’s sake, not because head actually believed that they were going to find anything. 

“But from what?” Kirishima asked. “The thief has been out of frame for three minutes. There shouldn’t be anything in the room.”

“It could just be a shift in the steam’s density,” postulated Suoh. He peered at the screen discerningly, trying his hardest to believe it was the breakthrough they were waiting for. So far, he didn’t see it. “Or it could be a wind current. It’s too thin to be a person.” 

“Maybe it’s a portal to another dimension,” offered Matsuoka. 

“You aren’t helping,” Suoh snarled. The kid was even cheekier than Takaba, and then and there, Suoh did not want to hear about myths, urban legends and alternate realities. He wanted to snap the thief’s spine so he could go on his hot date tonight. It had already been rescheduled once, and he dreaded making the call again. 

“We can’t tell what it is,” Kirishima argued. “Not with all the steam.”

“Go check it out in person,” Asami ordered. “Matsuoka and I will watch from here to verify that you are in the right spot.” Plus, he needed to have a chat with the young man. It seemed that the tech nerd thought plebeian myths counted as viable theories, and that needed to be remedied immediately. 

“Yes, Asami-sama,” his two best men bowed and all but ran from the room. Asami understood completely. They all need this nightmare to be over; just so they could get some sleep. It might have been the one thing that he craved more than Akihito’s tight ass. But just barely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doe anyone think they know who is the man behind the mask?


	4. Yukimura's Deception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down, two to go! 
> 
> Thanks to Miyanoai for beta-ing. She mentioned that Akihito needs to learn some discretion. I agree, but when I write him, I imagine him as more of a Fred Jones versus a Velma. That's why he's the way he is. I doubt he conducts his journalism like that, but in the interest of comedy, he is very gung-ho!

Chapter Four:

The exhibit was crowded, but not with doe eyed school children, and hormonal high schoolers. No parent in their right mind would let their child come to a place that was actually haunted by a monster. Instead, it was journalists and amateur photographers, looking to nab the substantial reward and launch their career, who swirled in circles as they waited for the beast to appear. In one corner, there was also a gaggle of internet freaks. Dressed in dark clothes, with their faces painted bright white and their eyes rimmed with black, they clutched not cameras but signs supporting the monster. 

This was turning into a freak show, not an educational experience. Asami had to be pissed. Then again, all these idiots still had to pay an admission fee, so it wasn’t like his money making scheme was hindered whatsoever. 

“This is nuts, dude,” Kou let out a low whistle. Security was everywhere, and he had a feeling that if anyone became the least bit restless, they all would pounce. The tension was so thick that he could cut it with a knife. 

Graduate students in forest green shirts acted as tour guides, explaining the exhibits in great detail to the brave few who dared visit the exhibit out of curiosity, not greed. They clumped together, shoulder to shoulder. There was security in numbers. Kou noticed immediately that with the exception of a couple of grad students, there was not one good looking woman present. They were too smart to risk disfigurement for some dusty old statues. 

“Tell me about it,” Akihito wrinkled his face in disgust. The gothic supporters of the Kuchisake-onna were chanting poorly written limericks to show their support. 

A few reporters were asking them questions, claiming that they wanted a different side of the story. Akihito knew better. The paparazzi were going to slander the idiots when they put pen to paper, but an article always garnered more attention if there was name to go with a nutcase. Their leader seemed to be a short, chubby girl with cropped purple hair. She was talking into three different microphones, and a news station was even filming the interview. 

“We focus too much on physical beauty,” the girl said in a deep, rattling voice. It sounded like she had swallowed another person, maybe the Kuchisake-onna, and that poor person was actually the one speaking. “The world values physicality over brains. That’s why we have stupid supermodels getting elected into government positions, and why the world is going to hell. The Kuchisake-onna is a revolt against mainstream beauty standards. She stands for change!”

“What the fuck is she talking about?” Kou’s mouth dropped open wide. “Does she know how crazy she sounds?”

“She’s just looking for her fifteen minutes of fame,” Akihito said loudly. The Kuchisake-onna supporters all heard him. They leveled him with what should have been bone chilling death glares, but after fucking Asami Ryuichi for much longer, Akihito was not the least bit cowed. 

“Excuse me?” the girl pushed past the mics to waddle over to him. Her floor length skirt, which looked like it came straight out of an anime, and should not have been worn in public, much less by this chick, followed behind her, exposing way more leg than Akihito had ever wanted to see. “Did you say something?”

“Yup,” Akihito smiled blithely, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Sure did.”

“Do you disagree?” she sneered at him. “Do you think that the mainstream way of life is better for society?”   
“I think only idiots judge a person based on their looks,” scoffed the blond. “What you are trying to do is divert the attention onto a social issue, when that isn’t remotely what happened here.” 

“Oh really?” the fat girl arched an eyebrow that was eerily similar to a caterpillar. “How is this anything but social commentary?” Her friends cheered her on from the sidelines. Kou put a restraining hand on his shoulder, but Akihito shrugged him off. He was so done with stupid people, and had stumbled onto the perfect outlet for his frustration. “They’ve already said that Kuchisake-onna-sama has already punished one vain woman,” she gestured to the crowding reporters. Some looked ashamed that they leaked that little detail, but most salivated for more info. 

“The grad student who was working on her thesis? To get her doctorate?” Akihito clarified. “Because, I don’t know about you, but I think she’s pretty smart. I’m smart, and I’m not getting a doctorate in anything.”

The girl snorted in disbelief. The little control over his rage broke, and Akihito let lose his fury. “You are trying to stir up more trouble than there needs to be,” he accused the girl with such heat that she reeled back in shock. He shoved his finger into her ample chest, closing the space between them. “It isn’t the Kuchisake-onna, it’s a thief in a mask. He isn’t some revolutionary, and he isn’t a good guy. He’s a thief who assaulted an innocent woman. All you are doing is adding hysteria for no fucking reason, because your life sucks, and you want to blame someone else for it!”

“That is not––!” the girl danced back, closer to her friends. 

“It is,” another voice added to Akihito’s own. It was an elderly man with powerful shoulders. He glared at the girl, who stood up a little straighter and squared her shoulders defiantly. “You are fear-mongering, young lady, and sullying the good name of my students. For that, you can leave my exhibit. All of you, get out now.”

The girl glared at the man. “You can’t do that!” she cried. 

“It is my exhibition, and I am in charge. So yes, I can,” the man motioned to some of the security guards. “Escort them off Asami-sama’s property, please.”

“Yes, Wanatabe-sensei,” the men bowed. 

“Rikona!” one of the chanters protested loudly. They looked to their leader, wanting her to fight the archeologist and keep them in the belly of the atrium until the demon could reappear. 

Rikona struggled against the goon’s tight grasp, but was drug from the hall by the men.The reporters followed, eager to get one last shot of the supporters in their moment of disgrace. “I’m not done, yet!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Just you wait! I’ll support Kuchisake-onna-sama until the end!”

“I am so disheartened by the youth of today,” the archeologist rubbed his face despondently while Asami’s men drug the chanters out. “My students give me such hope, and then I am bombarded with the stupidity of immaturity.” 

The photographer shrugged his shoulders. He was roughly the same age as Rikona, though hopefully not as crazy. Still, he was not a good advocate for the sanity of their generation when he willingly went home to Asami every night. Wanatabe turned to look him in the eye. “Thank you for defending my student,” he said solemnly. “I owe you my eternal gratitude.”

Akihito bowed reflexively. “It was my pleasure,” he said honestly. “Truly.”

Wanatabe opened his mouth to say something, but Kou bumped into Akihito’s shoulder. “Dude,” he hissed, pointing at Furuta who was quickly moving towards them, shoving the milling throng out of his way. “We’ve been spotted.”

“Spotted?” Wanatabe furrowed his eyebrows. “By whom?”

Akihito groaned, “My bodyguard.” 

The scholar blinked. That had not been what he was expecting the journalist to say. “Your bodyguard?”   
“Yeah,” Akihito sighed. “I’m investigating the thief, trying to disprove the legend and catch him in the act. My…lover isn’t pleased about it.”

Wanatabe slowly shook his head. “I don’t have any information for you.”

Akihito held up his hands, “No, no, no,” he quickly corrected the professor. “I don’t want to interview you.” The older gentleman visibly relaxed. “I’m going to catch the thief, and prove he’s a fake.”

*

The maids had all filed into the corridors while Kirishima and Suoh searched. Women in pink uniforms whispered to each other, wondering why the laundry room of all places was undergoing such scrutiny. They had work to do, and Asami’s best men were keeping them from it. It all had to be done before they could clock out. Suffice to say, the resentment level was high as they waited, backs reposed against the wall, grumbling about inconsiderate men. 

“It looks completely different without the steam,” Suoh remarked as they walked side by side between the rows of the machines. 

“I hadn’t expected that,” admitted Kirishima with a slight flush. “And I did not expect the dry cleaning vats to be so large.”

“Do you not know how your suits are cleaned?”

Kirishima looked at his counterpart like he had lost his head. “The general process, though I have never seen it up close. Do you?   
Suoh shrugged. “Not even remotely. They’re clean, and that’s what matters.” 

The secretary nodded. His thoughts exactly. “Asami-sama,” he tapped his earpiece. “Can you see us on the video feed?”

“Yes,” the boss’s voice echoed in both of their ears. “You’re four meters back. Face your left, and take a few steps forward. There,” Asami told them. “You are in the same spot as the shadow.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Suoh murmured. His mouth hung slightly slack as both men stared at something that had been completely undetectable on all security cameras. He was sweating in the hot room, and vanity caused Suoh to briefly wonder if his forehead was always so shiny. 

“What is it?” Asami demanded harshly. On the grainy screen, his best men stood in completely awe at whatever they were seeing. And he had absolutely no idea why. Suoh kept touching his forehead, and then rubbing his fingers together, as if checking for something grainy on him. Kirishima pushed his glasses up farther on the bridge of his nose, and though Asami could not see his face, he could feel the smugness radiating off him through the video. 

“It’s a mirror, Asami-sama,” Suoh’s voice was slightly raspy. “The back wall of the room is a mirror.” 

Eyes slightly widening in shock, Asami immediately turned to the desk. They had scoured over the blueprints, and had even sent men to investigate the washroom. Nothing even hinted at there being a mirror. But if there was a mirror, that meant one thing only: they had been looking at the entire room backwards. Which meant–– “Kirishima, what is the mirror reflecting?” demanded the fixer. 

Kirishima had been staring at it the entire time. “A door to an alleyway,” he did not even have to turn around to verify it, though he did. The thief was slipping through their fingers because of bad information and laziness. It ended then and there with him. None of the men took this as seriously because it was a man in a mask, but he was about to put a stop to that mindset as well. 

“It isn’t on the blueprints,” Asami informed them. “Get back here ASAP, and get me the number of our architect. I want to know why he sent us incomplete information.” 

Kirishima already looking his through his contacts for the architect. The man’s office was located in Nagoya, but he had come to Shinjuku to specifically design and then remodel the Peninsula Tokyo. The updates were recent enough that they should not have slipped his mind. So far, the rest of the information had been accurate as well. He faltered, his thumb not pressing the call button, when beside him, Suoh swore. 

“Oh fuck,” the giant man grimaced. 

“What’s wrong?” Kirishima asked. As far as he could see, this was the breakthrough that they had been waiting for. It was the thief’s first mistake, and it was the beginning of the end of the entire ordeal. Finally, something was in their favor. It was a good day. 

“Takaba’s back at the exhibit, and he’s just announced that he is going to unmask the thief.”

Kirishima and his big mouth. Of course the kid would try to save the day, and save Asami. The boss was going to be so pissed when he heard. And naturally the monster-slash-thief would target Takaba if he heard the declaration, which meant that the kid was going to end up neck deep in a shit storm. This day had gone from good to terrible in ten seconds. 

*

“I’ve got someone you might want to talk to,” a soft spoken nerd with wire rimmed glasses left his tour group to talk to Akihito and Wanatabe. 

“Mayeda,” Wanatabe’s deep voice rumbled as it trailed off, warning the young man. 

“I recognize you,” Mayeda licked his top row of teeth. “You were here on Monday, with the rest of us. When she attacked.”

Akihito nodded. “We both were,” he gestured between Kou and him. 

The nerd nodded. “He’s the one who fought off the Kuchisake-onna to protect the kindergarteners,” Mayeda told the archeologist. 

Wanatabe’s eyes widened in recognition. “Does he know that you are here?” Akihito flushed. The man must have seen him with Asami on Monday. It did not take a genius to put two and two together. 

“Even Asami needs help occasionally,” Kou said stiffly. He was protective of his friend, especially after Momohara Ai’s stalker. He stood at Akihito’s shoulder, eyes hard as they stared down the archeologist. He refused to let someone dismiss Aki just because he was Asami’s lover. Aki wasn’t a pampered pet or fragile! He could hold his own, and was just as capable at crime solving as anyone from an insurance company! 

Wanatabe nodded his head, and acquiesced with a wave of his hand. “As you wish, Mayeda.” 

“Thanks, Wanatabe-sensei,” Mayeda bowed low. “You’ll want to talk to Furuwasa Takashi. He is specializing in the Asuka Period. No one knows more about the Kappa statue than him.”

“Thanks,” Akihito nodded his head. “Where is he?” 

“Do you see the short guy with the big arms? That’s him,” the frail boy pointed to a good looking guy that was leaving the atrium. He had on the same ugly green shirts as the rest of the tour guides, and he had his phone pressed against his cheek. “I’d be careful with what you ask him, though. His girlfriend was the one who was attacked by the creature.”

Kou paled and Akihito nodded grimly. “All right. We’ll be careful. Thanks for the help.”

“My pleasure,” nodded Mayeda. “Keiko’s has always been so nice to me. She talks to me, and doesn’t get freaked out when I have my asthma attacks. I hope you catch whoever hurt her.” 

Kou winced. He knew what it sounded like to have an unrequited crush. From the way Mayeda’s face lit up when he talked about Keiko, Kou knew the guy had it hard. He put a hand on Mayeda’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “We will, buddy. I promise.”

“C’mon,” Akihito jogged towards the exit. “Maybe Takashi will know why someone might have stolen the kappa.” Kou rolled his eyes. That was Akihito for you, jumping in to danger head first. He chased after his friend, not nearly as optimistic that another nerd would help them. 

Furuta had seen the two boys the moment they entered the room. He had been ninety-eight percent sure that it was Takaba the moment he saw the golden hair, but waited to verify it before approaching them. The last he heard, the photographer had been forbidden to step foot in the Peninsula Tokyo. Abandoning his post was wrong, but his first priority quickly became securing the boy. He had left his spot by a Geisha painting, intending to intercept the two, when he heard a sentence that sent chills down his spine. Takaba intended to unmask the thief, without the approval of Asami-sama. He had his phone out before he could even process the information, informing Suoh before the photographer could get into any trouble. Undoubtedly, Takaba would be upset when he learned, but Furuta would be damned if he let the Kuchisake-onna cut up the photographer’s face. Or before he could become even more embroiled in the volatile situation. As the two asked out of the room, he followed, intending to bring them to Asami-sama.

*

Takashi was on the phone. “I understand what you’re saying, Hana, but I can’t make it back tonight. Wanatabe-sensei needs me here.”

He glanced up as Akihito and Kou skidded to a halt in front of him. “Just a second,” he covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “I’m on my break, guys. There’s other––“

“Wanatabe-sensei and Mayeda sent us to talk to you specifically,” Akihito cut him off. “About the kappa statue—“

“But we can wait until you’re finished with your phone call,” Kou thrust his hand in Akihito’s face, shushing the eager beaver. They couldn’t be rude to the nerd, even though Kou doubted that he could help them. 

Furuwasa Takashi squinted slightly at them, but quickly was distracted by the woman on the other end of his call. “Huh? Oh yeah, I’m here. Listen Mahana, I have to go. Text the superintendent and see if he can check on mom.” He paused for a moment. “Okay. Just let me know. Love you, too. Bye.”

“Sorry for interrupting you,” Kou quickly bowed. 

“Yeah,” the photographer flushed. “We didn’t realize you were busy.”

“It’s fine,” the grad student waved his hand. “My sister got stuck at work, and we just need someone to check in on my mom.”

Parents in poor health. Kou understood that. His had been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, and more often than not, walking was too painful. “Sorry dude,” he whispered. 

Takashi brushed off their concern. “Wanatabe-sensei sent you to me?” That was curious. The professor was usually so reserved, and he wouldn’t have told a couple of burgeoning journalists about Keiko. 

“Yeah. Him and some guy named Mayeda,” Akihito responded. “They said you’re the expert on the Asuka period. On the stolen kappa.”

“I signed a nondisclosure agreement,” Takashi took a few steps back, waving his hands. “I can’t talk to you about it.”

“We’re not trying to get a scoop,” Akihito rushed to reassure him. “We just need to know if there was a reason anyone would want to steal it.”

Takashi still regarded them suspiciously. “Are you fellas with the insurance company or something?”

“No,” Akihito was starting to get frustrated. He just needed a little tip, so he would know how to entice the thief into coming back. 

“We’re with Asami Ryuichi,” Kou, in a moment of brilliance, chimed in. 

The grad student’s mouth dropped in shock. “Asami-sama sent you? Shit, I’m sorry! I thought you were some of those assholes,” he pointed towards the atrium. “Gosh guys, if I’d know you were with him…”

“It’s okay,” Akihito smiled kindly. “We’re glad your following the NDA,’ he tried to make up some slang to sound more official. “But any information that you give us would be helpful.”

“Of course,” he nodded. 

“Would someone steal the statue for a reason other than profit? Revenge perhaps?” Akihito asked. 

“Maybe,” shrugged Takashi. “I can’t really speak to that. My knowledge is more centered around the kappa itself.”

Akihito nodded. “We know it’s valued at two million––“

“I think you forgot a zero there,” interrupted Takashi. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed that he had to correct the supposed investigators. “Yukimura-sama paid twenty-three million for it. 

Kou could not help it. His mouth dropped open and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Twenty-three million yen?” 

Takashi winced, “Euros.”

Oh fuck. The brunette had to fan himself. That was so much money. He could not image having that much money, let alone spending it on some chipped statue. He needed to sit down before he passed out. 

“Is there a market for it?” Akihito pressed on, trying hard not to think about the money. It made him just a sick as it did Kou. “Like a black market or something?”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Takashi. “Collectors all have different niches that they tend to stay in, but the collection depends on the man. In the case of this kappa, it was already worth twenty million. Since the theft and all the notoriety associated with it now, the price will have grown exponentially. Anything stolen, rare, you know the like, is always worth more. Infamy equates to pricelessness, and whoever has the statue now, knows this.”

“So you think money was the thief’s objective,” Akihito stroked his chin thoughtfully. 

“That would be my guess. I do know that Yukimura-sama got the statue for a steal. Literally,” Takashi offered one last bit of information. 

That had both of their attention. “What do you mean?” Kou demanded. 

“Wanatabe-sensei was the one who dug it up twenty-five years ago, up near Osaka. The original buyer was a man named Hamato Daichi, but Yukimura-sama was good friends with the then museum director. He bought it under the table hours before Hamato arrived in Tokyo. I know that Hamato holds a grudge, and the director lost his job because of it. Rumor has it that Hamato sabotaged Yukimura-sama’s limo years ago. That was the accident that crippled him.”

Akihito blinked. Damn. That was not what he had expected. So much drama over an ugly turtle. The sabotage sounded like something that Asami would do, albeit with more finesse. He would not have left any survivors. “Thanks for your help,” Akihito offered his hand to Takashi. “We’ll contact you if we have any more questions.”

“My pleasure,” Takashi’s handshake was firm. 

As they turned around, Kou and Akihito ran into a wall known as Furuta. Arms folded, the beefy security guard looked down reproachfully at them. “If you gentlemen are finished with your interview, Asami-sama would like to speak with you in the security office.”

Kou winced. “Busted,” he whispered loudly. 

*

Asami glared at both of them. “I do not need your help in the matter,” he said sternly. 

Akihito rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. You can’t be you,” he gestured wildly in lieu of calling Asami a murderer. Kou knew that he was a dangerous dude, but he wasn’t fully abreast of how dangerous. Akihito planned to keep it that way. “And get this done quickly. Rumor among the journalists is that Yukimura is pissed.”

“It was his statue that was stolen,” Asami was blasé as he folded him arms and perched on the edge of Matsuoka’s desk. “Of course he is upset.”

“I can do this, Asami!” Akihito vehemently argued. “We can do this!”

Asami pushed up off the desk, eyes dark as he strode towards his boy. “I won’t have you putting yourself in danger––“

“Asami-sama! It’s back!” Matsuoka shrieked loudly just as the lights flickered, and then darkened completely, leaving the men standing the pitch black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys and gals enjoyed it! Has your guess changed haha? I move on Friday, so I won't have a chance to write until after that. IDK what story is coming next, but I do know that I should have started packing before tonight! I didn't think it would be this hard...or that I would have so much stuff. If only I was as rich as Asami. I would pay someone to do it. Or buy new stuff. Whatever was easier lol.


	5. Kou's Close Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Miyanaoi, my beta, who scrupulous eyes find all the errors that mine are too lazy to look for.

Chapter Five:

“Oh that’s creepy,” Kou hissed as his hand grabbed for the darkness. He finally found a another hand and grabbed a hold of it, squeezing it tightly. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the dark; it was what was in the dark that terrified him. And knowing that there was a Kuchisake-onna on the prowl, yeah, he was freaked out. 

The hand squeezed back, larger and rougher than Kou thought Akihito’s would be. For a moment, no one breathed. Silence echoed louder than any words, and then a blood curdling scream pierced the silence. It seemed to echo in his skull, bouncing between his cochleas like a pinball. Kou blinked, his vision zigzagging even in the dark. For a moment, they could only listen in revulsion as the Kuchisake-onna’s screams were joined by those of the frightened spectators. 

Turbines whirled, and the lights flickered quickly like a hummingbird’s wing before they came back on fully. Kirishima and Suoh were already shouting orders into the phones. They fought each other to get through the door. Akihito ran to the monitors, trying to pinpoint the monster. The bodyguards used intuition to find the thief; Akihito was a journalist and needed viable evidence before he would go rushing off into danger. 

A mere three seconds had passed since the lights came back on, and as Kou watched Akihito scramble to the computer, he quickly realized that he was not holding his best friend’s hand. Just to be certain––he glanced down at his joined hand and then up to incredulous gold eyes. Asami had just come to the same startling conclusion. 

“Bleh!” Kou jerked his hand away. Asami wiped his hand distastefully on his shirt. Briefly their eyes met and an understanding passed between them. This was never to be spoken of. 

“She’s at the main entrance!” the photographer shouted. 

“Stay here,” Asami commanded as he strode out of the room, undoing the buttons on his suit jacket. He was too cool to run. 

Akihito snorted. “Yeah, right,” he took off after his lover, Kou on his heels.

***

The atrium was in total chaos. People were shoving past each other as they squished through the doors. Everyone was screaming, kids were sobbing, and alarms were blaring. Even the reporters, those die-hard journalists that were dedicated to the story, tried to am-scray away from the monster. Kou thought he was going to be sick. 

Blood was everywhere––trailing down the walls in handprints, dropping in puddles on the ceramic floor, seeping onto sandals and squishing as people ran. The Kuchisake-onna crouched in the center of the maelstrom, her back to the doors of the exhibit. Clutched to her chest was a daedal koi fish, the red and blue paint on the scales chipping as she tossed her head back with a wail. 

“Mine!” she stomped her bare feet, stringy hair bouncing around her. “It’s pretty like me!” 

“Surround her!” Suoh’s voice rang like thunder. Many of Asami’s men were herding people away from the doors, and out of the hotel. It was safer in the sweltering heat. The rest kept their hands on their hips, waiting for the orders to draw their guns. 

“You’re all ugly!” she screeched. “You’ll never take my pretties from me!”

“Oh yeah?” Akihito’s shoes squeaked when there rubber soles slid on the polished floor. Hands extended to other side, he blocked the last exit with his body. 

Still, the Kuchisake-onna backed nearer to him. He was small, with almost no muscle. Any monster could easily overpower him. Somewhere, in the background noise, Kou hear a swear. It might have been Asami, but more likely it was Furuta, the mother hen that he was. Everyone but the monster froze, unsure how to react now that Akihito was in the way. 

“Yeah!” 

Wait…was that his voice? Aww, hell. Kou looked around, stunned by the turn of events. He was standing next to his best friend, arms nearly touching. He did not even remember moving! The creature’s eyes glinted maliciously. Her grip on the koi tightened. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at him. The slits extended from the corners of her mouth almost up to the points of her eyes, and when her cheeks scrunched up, her face resembled a bleeding pomegranate. 

“You’re pretty,” she cooed at Kou. 

Shit, he was going to be sick. He clutched his stomach, doubling over. Without warning, the Kuchisake-onna darted backwards. Arm extended, she knocked Akihito to the ground. He landed on his butt with an oomph. The woman grabbed Kou by the hair, jerking him upright. The tech was suddenly in front of her, her bare breasts heaving against his back as his body acted as a shield. She knew that Asami’s men were lethal. “So pretty,” she rubbed her bloody cheek the crook of his neck. “All mine.”

Yippee. He was going to be drug off to her secret love cave of pretty things and suffer a horrible, probably sexual fate. Maybe she was hot once the blood was mopped up. He could always hope. 

“Kou!” Akihito jumped up to this feet. He fumbled for any weapon, and found none. They were only able to watch as the Kuchisake-onna walked backwards, away from all of Asami’s men, the koi statue in tow. 

“Stay where you are,” the woman threatened. “Or I’ll rip his pretty neck out with my teeth.”

“Stay back,” Akihito ordered Asami’s men, even though he had absolutely no authority over them. He did not care at all about the stupid statue. They would recover it when they caught the crazed bitch. Kou’s life hung in the balance, and that was not something he wanted to gamble with it. “Just calm down,” he kept his hands down, palms facing the floor. “No one needs to get hurt.” 

The Kuchisake-onna’s tongue flicked along Kou’s jaw. “I’m not the one who hurts people. That’s Yukimura,” 

“So you aren’t the Kuchisake-onna?” Akihito slowly followed them. He felt Asami and his men stalking up behind him, their guns drawn and ready. There was still several feet between him and the thief, but he was trying to close the distance. Take her down before Asami could shoot her, or before she could hurt his best friend. “This is about revenge.”

“Of course it is,” she sneered. “He made me into this monster. He liked pretty things until they’re used up and ugly. He doesn’t care about the scars he leaves behind.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt you,” Akihito tensed, ready to jump. The woman had backed up to a window. They were on the first floor, but the Peninsula Tokyo sat on a hill. It was a long drop into the water below. “I’m sure he’s sorry.”

“He isn’t like you or me,” the woman dropped her monstrous facade. “He doesn’t feel remorse. It doesn’t bother him to hurt people.” 

“You’ve hurt people,” Akihito reminded her. “That graduate student didn’t do anything to you.”

The woman’s eyes darted around. She knew that she was backed into a corner. Asami’s men surrounded her, slowly collapsing the gap between them and the thief. She was about to be apprehended and stoned for her transgressions. “That was an accident. She fell. I didn’t mean––didn’t want––“ she choked out. It almost sounded like she was about to cry.

“It was still your responsibility,” Akihito’s voice was stern. “Just like it is Yukimura’s responsibility that he hurt you.”

“Dude,” Kou found his voice. It warbled, stuck somewhere deep in his throat. “Don’t make her angry.” Seriously, he had a deranged chick threatening to bite out his jugular. The last thing he wanted Aki to do was antagonize her. “Accidents happen,” he chimed in an almost singsong voice. 

“Accidents,” the Kuchisake-onna whispered into his ear. He felt something warm land on the skin just beneath his ear. A tear. She was crying. “Right.”

With a scream, she let go of Kou. The boy’s body stumbled forward, his legs more rubber than bone as the force of her shove drove him into Akihito. The friends wrapped their arms around each other, bracing for the impact as they fell to the floor. Keeping the koi statue against her chest, the monster rounded her shoulders and jumped. 

Akihito had never heard glass shatter before, but it was deafening. It was like a bomb went off. Burning air rushed into the ballroom, scattering debris and leaves. The woman shrieked in pain as it cut into her bare back, and as the wind left her body, she fell into the rushing waters below. Akihito heard the loud splash, but was too busy holding a crying Kou. His best friend was shaking as the adrenaline left his body and fear seeped in. 

Asami and his men swarmed around them. Furuta was pulling them to their feet, checking for injuries. The fixer was screaming for men to get to the water, to find the woman. Or any evidence of her. Kirishima was on his phone, Souh was climbing out of the window. He was taking the direct approach. Seconds later, Akihito heard the mammoth’s body hit the water. Two more men jumped in after him. 

“Stay still,” Furuta gripped both Akihito and Kou’s arms tightly. “Asami-sama will want to talk to you both. And you are evidence,” he nodded to Kou. Blood was all over his face and neck, as well as the woman’s saliva. It was the DNA evidence they needed to find her once and for all. 

Akihito took a steadying breath, and tried to stand tall. Kou’s head fell on his shoulder, where he kept crying. He had never had a near death experience before, even with Feilong, had never had his life flash before his eyes. He had never felt bona fide terror until then. It was too much for him to process emotionlessly. So his best friend let him cry, and did not say a word about it. Ever. 

***

Kou flinched when the nameless goon swabbed the q-tip along his jaw. His face was still red, his eyes swollen. No one mentioned it. The goon went about his work with a comforting efficiency, as if he did this sort of thing all the time. Kirishima and Asami stood off to the side, giving Kou some modicum of privacy. His clothing had all been collected for trace evidence, and samples of the blood were taken off of him before they gave him a sanitary wipe. They even combed his hair for any detritus. An ambulance was on standby to take him to the hospital where he could have a thorough examination and get any booster that he needed. Nobody wanted to leave the hope that the Kuchisake-onna did not have any transmittable diseases to chance. It was not worth the risk.

“How are you feeling?” Asami asked when the goon stood. He was sliding the final swab into a clear tube to preserve it from contamination. 

Kou gulped and put on a brave face. “Better,” he answered. “I’m calming down now.” 

“Good,” Asami squeezed his shoulder. Kou flinched, not from the human contact but from the idea that Asami Ryuichi would offer him any sort of comfort. “You will be escorted to the hospital, and then to your home. I doubt that this woman will target you.”

“Nah,” Kou tried to ignore his racing heart. It never occurred to him that she might come back. “She’s all about the artifacts. Not me.” Even though she called him pretty. 

Asami nodded curtly. He agreed with the tech analyst’s assumptions. He was a convenient shield in a time of need, and not her intended target. “You,” he turned on his lover. “I distinctly remember ordering you not to come here.” To the exhibit, to the atrium, to fight the Kuchisake-onna. He had banned Akihito from the property in an attempt to prevent something like this from happening. 

“You need help,” Akihito squared his shoulders and lifted his jaw as he met Asami’s gaze. “You can’t do everything by yourself.”

“This,” Asami hissed. “I have handled.”

“Asami-sama,” Kirishima lowered his phone. “She got away. She floated with the current to an undetermined location. We’re searching the shoreline now for a trail.” 

Asami jerked his head. “Keep looking. I don’t care if it takes all night.”

“Yes sir. Suoh is leading the investigation,” Kirishima braced himself as he delivered the rest of the news. “Also, Yukimura Aoishi is coming.”

“Today?” Asami finally turned away from his lover. “When?”

“He’s making the drive now,” the secretary responded. “He should be here by nightfall.”

Asami swore. “Get him a room here. All the amenities. VIP status. You know the drill,” he walked over to his second-in-command, his brother in arms. “And get me a fucking lead before he gets here. We need more than preventative measures to show him.” Yukimura did not have the money or power that Asami did, but he had powerful friends that could inconvenience the fixer. Yukimura also had the rare ability to manipulate public opinion. Asami needed the cripple on his side if he wanted to come out of this debacle unscathed. 

“At once,” Kirishima bowed low. 

Asami rubbed his face with the heels of his hands, groaning. This day was going to hell in a hand basket, and quickly. He stilled when he heard two indomitable youths whispering.

“Dude,” Kou nudged Akihito’s ribs with his elbow. Furuta was not paying them any attention. He stood at attention, as if he were guarding them. Really, he was listening to Asami speak with Kirishima, just like everyone else in the room. Yukimura’s sudden trip to Tokyo could only mean trouble for the fixer, and them by association. They needed to get a handle on the situation fast. “Look at that!” 

He pointed to a small, cream piece of paper. It could have been garbage blown in by the wind, litter that lingered around the hotel. It could have been from a spectator or a reporter as they ran in terror. Maybe it was part of a kid’s class project, or a napkin. But the small speck of shining red made Akihito think it was something infinitely more precious: a clue. The Kuchisake-onna impersonator must have dropped it during her escape. It was crumpled, old but the blood was brand new. 

Akihito slowly walked over to it, careful not to draw any attention to it. He wanted to get a good look before Asami snatched it out of his hands. Unfortunately, the fixer was preternaturally observant, and Akihito barely had a chance to read the name on the business card before it was yanked away. He glared. Stupid Asami, stealing his clues before he could decipher them. 

“Get them out here,” Asami ordered Furuta. He looked down at the card, aware that Kirishima now stood beside him, also reading. Simusu Sajori, architect. Not just any architect either, but the one who designed the Peninsula Tokyo and was also responsible for the renovations. Kirishima was already dialing the man’s office. Asami suddenly thought he might have an explanation as to why Simusu sent him the wrong blueprints.

***

Kou was waving the hot nurses off of him. For once, he wasn’t interested in the hot babes in their tight white uniforms. The Kuchisake-onna captivated him, made his heart race with terror and fascination. Now, he was just as invested in the case as Akihito. Now, he wanted to be the one to catch her. 

“What did you find out?” he peered over the journalist’s shoulder, reading the small screen on his phone. 

“He’s an architect,” Akihito read the well designed website. He could have taken better promotional shots for the man’s portfolio, but overall, it was a work of art. “He has done a lot of casinos, hotels, office buildings––holy shit!”

“What? What?” Kou jumped up and down. He sustained no injuries during the attack, and once the doctor gave him a B-12 injection, he felt as fit as a fiddle. 

“Dude, he’s the one who designed the Peninsula Tokyo!” 

Kou gaped like fish. “No way!” 

“Right?” Akihito gasped. “That’s unreal.”

“And almost too easy,” Kou let rationale thought override excitement. “Just because he designed the place doesn’t give him a motive. Why would he want revenge on Yukimura?”

“He could have been lying,” Akihito searched for links between Simusu and Yukimura. His fingers flew over the buttons on his phone. “Or an accomplice. One thing is for certain, he isn’t the thief.”

“The thief could be wearing a costume,” argued Kou as he pulled on sweatpants. After taking all of his clothes, Asami gave him a new set from the gift shop. He was officially a walking billboard for the exhibit. “It could all be special effects.”

“But she sounds like a woman,” Akihito pointed out. His shoulders slumped. Nothing. He found no links between Simusu and Yukimura. “Also, this guy is really tall. Too tall to be the Kuchisake-onna.”

Kou furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. “Do you think he has a daughter, maybe? A wife? You said accomplice, but what if he did not know that someone had gotten a hold of the blueprints for the hotel? It could just as easily be someone who has access to them. It would explain how she knows the layout so well.”

“Maybe,” Akihito stopped talking when Furuta walked into the hospital room, announcing that the car was ready to take them to Kou’s. “Ryu has the business card, now. I know that he has already called Simusu about it.”

“I still think it’s someone connected to him,” argued Kou. He thanked the bodyguard when he opened the car door for him. 

“If she is close to him, she wouldn’t need to carry around his business card,” Akihito pointed out. “Wouldn’t she have his number programmed into her phone?”

Kou huffed. Damn, detective work was hard. 

***

Yukimura Aoishi had certainly seen better days. He was a man in his early sixties, but he looked much older than that. He looked so old and so broken that the softest breeze would turn his body into dust. He could not move, because there was no muscle or fat on his frail body. Just fragile looking bone and excess skin that hung limply from him. It shifted in the air like his body’s private curtains, shielding and protecting him from the cruel world. His face was old, hollow and crinkled. There so many creases and lines that it was difficult to tell where his saggy cheeks ended and his hollow chin began.   
   
The worst part of it all was his eyes. They were large and sunken deep into his head. Two holes lingered at the top of his face, framing the terrifyingly alert eyes in inky black. Those eyes were a bright, sickly yellow and his pupils were so dilated that Kirishima was sure he had jaundice. Those scary eyes made it very clear that the old man was mentally alert, and oh so intelligent. The car accident had taken his legs but not his mind. 

“Asami,” the old man’s handshake was firm, his voice low. 

“It’s good to see you again,” Asami nodded his head. Mori flanked his boss’s side, sponging the sweat off of his forehead. A very pretty nurse pushed the old man’s wheelchair. Asami knew for a fact that Yukimura had several wheelchairs, many of them motorized. He supposed the old man enjoyed have pretty company on the bad days, when the pain was too excruciating to bear. The old codger refused any pain management, claiming that the stabbing torture was his punishment for his mistress’s death some twenty-five years ago.

His mistress had died in the same accident that took his legs, burning to death before his eyes. A sight like that would scar anyone, turn their body haggard and broken. If he ever had to watch Akihito die so brutally, trapped by his side but unable to help, Asami was sure that he would not be able to survive a day longer, never mind decades. 

“Too bad the situation is shit,” the old man guffawed. “Let me see the exhibit, Imaru-chan,” he instructed the nurse with a wave of his hand. Asami walked by his side, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed and his gait leisurely. It looked as if they were father and son enjoying an afternoon out. There was no animosity crackling between them, which surprised Mori. “God, it’s good for these things to see the light of day,” Yukimura chuckled. “They sit in my library, gathering dust and growing even older.”

“Treasures have a way of becoming more beloved to the owner, and less interesting to the rest of the world,” Asami agreed. 

“I spend hours with these, some days,” Yukimura chuckled sardonically. “They took what I loved most from me, and yet I can’t bare to be apart from them for very long. Even that damned kappa.”

“Well now that one is gone,” Asami told him. “Along with the koi from this afternoon.”

Yukimura nodded his head. “It’s fitting in a way,” he pressed his flabby lips into a tight line. “That kappa ruined my life once, and it is trying to again. Ironic, in a way.”

“Let’s talk about the kappa,” Asami folded his arms. “Our thief had some interesting things to say this afternoon. I have some questions that you need to answer.”

“Ask away. I’m an open book,” Yukimura said with a grin. “I don’t think I’ll know anything, I’m afraid. I think it’s a case of greed.”

Asami clicked his tongue. “I would think that, if the woman didn’t say she wanted revenge. Specifically on you. So I am going to ask you a very hard question.” Mori and Imaru tensed behind their boss. They both adored the older gentleman, and did not want the fixer to upset him further. He had suffered enough in his life. 

Asami did not mind to hurt the man further, no matter how much he liked him. “Our thief claimed that you maimed her,” Asami said gruffly. “Cut her up, used her, and abandoned her. I can’t think of any other woman who might feel like that but your mistress, and she is supposed to be dead.” Asami glared at the man. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“Now wait just a damn minute,” Yukimura sputtered. His face quickly swirled with puce and red, his ears almost flapping in rage. “How dare––You fucker––“

Asami bent at the waist. Hands bracing on the arms of the wheelchair, he stared his friend directly in the eye. “Your next words need to be honest,” he threatened. “What happened to Furuwasa Noemi that night on the bridge?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has one last chapter, and then a short epilogue. We're almost done, guys and gals! 
> 
> Heads up, the next chapter is dramatic, and a little tragic, with just a dash of humor!


	6. The Trap is Sprung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! All we have left is the epilogue, and it won't be too long. Thanks for all of your support through this story. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. 
> 
> This chapter is for my wonderful beta Miyanoai. She works behind the scenes to edit these stories. Without her, they would be vastly different. Thank you for all of your hard work, Miyanoai. I appreciate it!

Chapter Six:

“Hello?” Kou’s phone rang. The brunet held it to his ear. “This is he.”

Akihito was surprised. He had not known that his friend could act so professionally. True, he was a tech at a call center, but Kou was so boisterous, too lackadaisical to ever be the deadpanned voice on the other end of a phone. “Furuta,” he asked quietly. 

“Yes, Takaba-san,” Furuta met his eyes through the rearview mirror. 

“Is Asami going to be all right?” Yukimura coming felt like an attack on the fixer, as if he did not trust Asami to handle the issue himself. Akihito was insulted on his lover’s behalf. “Yukimura has a lot of pull, especially with the older politicians, right? What’s going to happen?”

“Really?” Kou sounded perturbed. “Are you sure?”

“Asami-sama has a longstanding working relationship with Yukimura-san. I am sure that he is coming to Tokyo so that they can present a united front. Finding the thief will become a joint effort.”

“Is it that serious?” The statues were worth millions, more money than Akihito could ever amass in his life. The thief was making bank off the shoulders of the elite, something that Akihito did not think he would have a problem with––until it happened. The unfairness of the situation, the fact that it was Asami’s reputation and business prospects on the line made him angry. Though his lover was often cruel and vicious during business, he at least earned his living. He worked tirelessly, something that the photographer could admire. 

“If they fail to recover the relics soon, there will be severe financial repercussions for Asami-sama,” Furuta answered his charge honestly. The man never handled the photographer with baby gloves, which Akihito appreciated. “Tomorrow night’s gala hinges on whether or not this thief is caught.”

“Why is that?” Usually, Asami’s enemies liked to gather and gloat. It seemed weird that they would miss out on an opportunity to do so.

“Thanks,” Kou nodded his head. He had his finger stuck in his ear as he listened to the other end of the conversation. “I appreciate you calling me.”

“A lot of important people were invited to it. Prestigious people, with a lot of money and power,” Furuta explained. “If the thief presents a real threat, we can’t allow them all to gather in one place.”

It would be the perfect assassination attempt. If the Kuchisake-onna wanted to cause absolute chaos, she would have the perfect opportunity. Japan’s central government would be in one location. Easy to kill, easy to get out of the way. Akihito did not think that anarchy was her objective, but the last thing he wanted to do was risk it. He was a terrible gambler, and usually what he thought would happen, was the opposite of what actually happened. “Gotcha,” he answered his bodyguard. 

“So,” Kou turned to his friend. “They just called with the results from my lab work.”

“Already?” Furuta quirked an eyebrow. “That was quick.”

“Apparently, Asami put a rush order on them,” Kou shrugged. “I didn’t know he could do that.”

“Me either,” Akihito leaned in closer to his friend. “What did they say?”

“It was prop blood and gelatin,” Kou wrinkled his forehead. “Like the stuff they use in haunted houses.”

It was a relief to have it confirmed as fake blood. They could talk a good game, about how they were catching a thief and not some monster that terrorized Japan forty years ago. The proof was in the goopy blood: it was a man in a mask after all. Plus, Kou had no chance of catching some horrific blood borne disease because a crazy chick cut her face up. 

“Cool. When we get back to your place, we can look up all the places in Tokyo that sell it. It’s the middle of May, so it should not be too difficult to compile a list.”

“Assuming that the thief didn't buy it online,” the tech pointed out. 

Akihito shrugged. “We’ll have to risk it.” It was all they could do. If they brought Asami into the loop, Kirishima could undoubtedly gain access to the bazillions of internet databases and track down some faux blood. However, if they clued in the fixer, Akihito would be officially banned from the exhibit, and lose all contact with Kou until the debacle was over. Somehow, Asami had gotten the notion that Akihito was a trouble magnet into his head, and no matter how much the photographer argued, the fixer would not be dissuaded. 

Furuta cleared his throat. He was thinking along the same lines as the blond. “Takaba-san, you and I both know that I cannot let you pursue this matter further.”

“Of course you can!” Kou snorted. He was used to Aki’s ability to wiggle his way into every situation, despite any precautions to keep him out of the action. He was a legend in that regards. “Just drop us off at my place and you can be on your merry way.”

“No,” Furuta’s words were final. 

Neither boy listened to him.”You can have total deniability. We’re going to my place, and Takato is supposed to be over after he finishes up at work. We’re having pizza and beer.”

“Asami-sama is not stupid enough to believe that, and he knows that I’m not either,” argued Furuta as he pulled the car over to the side of the street. They had arrived at Kou’s apartment building. It was time for the brunet to exit the convoy, so to speak. 

“Dude!” he protested. 

“You could come with us,” Akihito leaned into the space between the driver and passenger’s seat. His shoulders pressed into the soft leather. It was definitely a tight fit. “Keep us safe or whatever you are supposed to do. Plus, you could help us catch the guy.”

Furuta snorted dubiously, and for good reason. All of Akihito’s plans had a nasty way of backfiring. Any concocted plan seemed to fall apart when the shit hit the fan. And the shit always hit the fan.

“C’mon,” Kou wheeled. He leaned against Akihito, the two staring down the burly guard. “You can’t say that you aren’t curious about why this happening! It’s a new phenomenon to Tokyo!”

“I think it’s a new phenomenon everywhere,” Akihito muttered under his breath. “Shit like this only happens in comic books.”   
Kou bobbed his head excitedly and pointed his finger at Akihito. “See? It’s new, cutting edge! And we’re on the brink of it!”

Furuta looked like his was wavering slightly. For such a colossal man, he was much easier to persuade than Suoh. Akihito typically used that to his advantage. A thought struck the photographer, and when a devious smirk lifted the corners of his mouth, Furuta knew that the boy had just struck gold. His stomach dropped in anticipation. 

Leaning closer, Akihito conspiratorially drawled, “We need to pick your brain about a guard named Saito Reiji.”

That had Furuta’s attention. Hook. “He’s a new hire. What about him?”   
Kou bounced excitedly. “I had totally forgotten about that!”

Akihito propped his chin up with his hand. “We overheard him arguing with the manager of the Tokyo Peninsula. Apparently they’re cousins.” Line. 

“How does this connect with the thefts?” the man was straight to business. Akihito saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his thin eyebrows scrunched at the mere thought of Saito. 

“That’s what we need to figure out. They were talking about scamming Asami. Yonosuke had a son on the inside, and he needs the help of a family member,” Akihito reported. And sinker.

Furuta jerked the keys out of the ignition. “Get inside. I’ll run a check on the internet while you call the stores. We’ll catch that bastard red handed.”

Akihito and Kou high-fived as they climbed out of the backseat. A few more hours, and hopefully they would have this mystery solved. 

***

“I don’t know what to say, Asami-sama,” Simusu Sajori was a thin, wraithlike man. He sat behind his large ebon desk, his palms clasped together, masking the terrified tremors that shook his body. “To my knowledge there was nothing wrong with the blueprints that we sent you.”

“Did you not inspect them before they were mailed?” Asami leaned back in his plush office chair. He looked disdainfully at the man. For one who was so dedicated to his work and fixated on the details, Simusu had a major oversight. 

“No! No! I did!” Simusu held his hands up in surrender. “I reviewed them before my secretary overnighted them to you! Everything was correct on our end!”

“Obviously not,” Asami tapped his fingers on the chair’s arm. If there had not been a problem, he would not be Skyping with Simusu. 

“It’s possible that my secretary made a mistake when she packaged the blueprints––“

“Are you saying that your secretary hatched this entire scheme?” interrupted Yukimura. The crippled man glared at the architect, who bristled. The two had a poor relationship before this debacle, Simusu having backed out on the renovation of Yukimura’s mansion for unspecified reasons. 

“Certainly not!” Simusu hotly countered. “She is frazzled, though. Her mother isn’t doing well. Actually, she has had to take a few days off of work––“

“I’m not interested in the lives of your people,” Asami interrupted. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Yukimura grow rigid. His bony fingers tightly gripped the wheelchair arms, as white as bone. “I need this situation remedied. Immediately.”

“Of course,” Simusu bowed to the fixer. “I’ll prepare it myself.”

Asami’s eyes narrowed, “Good.”

***

“This is absolutely the dumbest plan you have ever come up with,” Kou stared up at the ceiling with the assembled group. 

“It defies all logic,” Takashi agreed. 

Up in the rafters was an overly complicated system of pulleys and nets. They had spent the majority of the afternoon putting it together. Akihito explained how it worked, and had actually drawn up plans for it. Poor Furuta was easily nabbed during the test run, the ropes whizzing as he was strung up high in the rafters by the cargo net. Kou thought it looked too ridiculous to work so perfectly a second time. 

“Shut up,” Akihito growled. “It’s perfect. I just hope she comes.”

“She? He? Do we even know who this thief is?” Wanatabe-sensei shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “It seems that we have expended a substantial amount of effort on the hope that the thief will show.”

“That’s where he came in,” Akihito proudly pointed at Takashi. “He’s been spreading the word about the even rarer statues that are coming to replace the kappa and the koi.”

Takashi puffed out his chest. “They are the most exclusive pieces in the collection. Yukimura treasures them so much that he escorted them personally for the gala tomorrow,” he ad-libbed. 

The archeologist nodded his head. “Very convincing.”

“Hopefully it’s smooth sailing from here on out,” Kou shrugged his shoulders. He doubted that this plan would go off without a hitch, but he could hope. The exhibit was closed to the public so that the relics could be cleaned before the scheduled photoshoot. Several collectors were interested in bidding on the pieces, and Yukimura was supposedly polite enough to entertain the idea of selling off parts. Also, Akihito needed to get in a few more shots if he wanted to publish a photo book. He had gotten distracted by the mystery, and though he wanted shots of the top brass gazing fondly at the art as if they understood it, he needed head on pictures of the more valuable pieces. 

“Akihito!” Asami’s voice echoed in the atrium. The photographer cringed and Kou winced in empathy. Hoping was too much after all. “Do I even want to know what’s going on?”

Kirishima and Suoh walked behind him, the three looking like deadly spies who could kill with a single look. With the week as bad as it had been, Akihito would not be surprised if Asami had developed the ability to shoot lasers out of his eyes. A terrifying skeletor in a wheelchair was pushed by a good looking nurse. Akihito noticed Kou stand up a little straighter and suck in his stomach. That must have been the infamous Yukimura Aoishi. The collector looked as old as his relics, and just as dusty. 

Akihito held up his camera. “I’m ready to get some shots of the auction.”

Suoh snorted in disbelief as Asami leveled a look at Furuta. “Good job of keeping him entertained.”

Huh? The photographer looked between his semi-permanent body guard, who was coincidentally suddenly on the top of his shit list, and his lover, who had always been there. Furuta bowed to his boss. “It was an entertaining day.”

“Oh we saw,” Kirishima motioned to the security cameras that had recorded the entire afternoon. 

Arms crossed, Akihito pouted. Piss. He should have expected Asami to have eyes everywhere. It was impossible to fool that man. “You’re just in time. We’re about to catch the thief.”

Asami smirked at the petulant blond. “That is going to be taken down before our patrons arrive, and you will be going back to the penthouse.”

“I’m on the clock,” the photographer countered. He had forgotten their audience, that yes Asami could make him go home, and that it was possible that the thief could hear their every word. “I’m tired of you assuming that I can’t handle myself when I can. It’s a naked chick running around, so it’s not like anyone is going to die. Furthermore, it is my job to expose the frauds. I do it every day. And I’ll be damned if I let you stop me because it’s inconvenient for you.”

Whoa. Kou motioned to Takashi and Wanatabe that they might want to slink away quietly. The longer they watched the lovebirds fight, the more awkward it would become. He wanted to avoid that at all costs. Together, they slowly backed away. Kirishima and Furuta helped usher Yukimura and his people away, giving the two some privacy. 

“This has nothing to do with convenience,” Asami told the glaring photographer. He kept his voice light, and his expression neutral. They were not going to fight in public. “It has to do with your safety.”

“You can’t tell me that you believe it’s the real Kuchisake-onna,” Akihito protested. 

“Of course not,” Asami drawled. That was beyond the scope of possibility. “That does not mean that she is not dangerous. That if when backed into a corner, she won’t lash out.”

“She?” Akihito quirked an eyebrow. “You think it’s a woman.”

“I already know who it is,” Asami told him. “While you were busy setting up your trap,” he sneered at the word. “I did the footwork. I found her. And I have people waiting to arrest her when she returns home.”

“You don’t know about Saito––“ 

Asami held his hand up. “Furuta has already informed me. He is not involved with this scheme, however, but he is being investigated now. As is Yonosuke Mataoka.”

Akihito relaxed his grip on Asami’s sleeves, his shoulders dropping. “Okay,” he should have been angry that Furuta had ratted on him to Asami. By now though he should have known that no guard would keep a secret from the fixer. If he was honest, Akihito was just happy that Asami knew of the impending danger. Whatever Yonosuke’s son had planned could be thwarted. 

“Now,” Asami looked at the ceiling overhead. “How do I untangled your complex system of pulleys and nets without yanking Kirishima to the ceiling?”

Akihito snickered at the thought of the secretary swinging like a pendulum from the rafters, his glasses on the floor and his tie in front of his face––the insult to injury. “It’d be funny, you know.”

Asami smirked, and had they been alone, he would have chuckled. “Maybe it would be,” he agreed bemusedly. 

The room went dark. 

Akihito froze. Shit…She was back. The thief came quicker than he had anticipated, not waiting for the auction. Akihito thought that she was going for the biggest impact. The more people she scared, the better cover she had to escape under. Asami grabbed him in the darkness, palming his hand over his hair as if checking to make sure it was Akihito that he was yanking to his chest. There was a loud clang––the sound of a metal grate clattering to the floor. Akihito jumped, startled by the loud noise. There was a softer thud, the sound of small feet landing on the carpet. 

The Kuchisake-onna was in the atrium. 

“Where are the lights?” Asami roared so loudly that Akihito felt his bones shake. He could hear clamoring far away. Suoh and Kirishima were running towards them. Yukimura was calling for the thief to stop, Furuta presumably searching for Kou, Takashi and Wanatabe. 

The lights blared back on. They were so bright, his eyes burned. Akihito blinked furiously, trying to clear his eyes and allow his pupils to relax. Asami darted into action. Spinning his lover behind him, he reached for his gun. The Kuchisake-onna crouched in front of him, her costume blood dripping all over the floor as she snarled like a dog. Bright blue eyes darted around the exhibit, looking for the new icons. “Where are they?” the voice had lost it shrillness, having become lower, more guttural. It was a sensual aspect that Akihito had never seen in the Kuchisake-onna. 

“Stand down,” Asami held a hand out, either trying to calm her or distract her. “It’s over.”

The woman arched her back, as her eyes narrowed. She looked at Akihito, who kept his hands behind his back, hiding the remote control that activated the trap. Yukimura was a few feet behind him, but was quickly approaching. Imaru, his nurse, looked absolutely terrified at the gore. The blood dripped into the thief’s mouth. She noticed the nurse’s revulsion, so she quickly swished the goop around her mouth. Hissing and baring her teeth, she let the blood dribble down her chin. 

“Wait a minute!” Takashi shouted from behind the creature. 

The woman froze. Her shoulders were pulled up around her cheeks, and her hissing stopped. Yukimura took advantage of her surprise. He wheeled himself closer to her, completely forgetting his entourage. “How dare you think you can steal from me! Who do you think you are?” his roar reverberated as loudly as the woman’s shrieks. Akihito cringed. They mashed together cohesively. He really wished that he could snap a photo of them. They summed up the exhibition in a way that words or relics never could.

The woman’s head turned, her onyx hair slicing through the air like a braided whip. “You!” she gasped. She fell deaf to the rest of the room, zeroing in on the cripple. 

Yukimura reeled back, not expecting the vitriol spewed at him. He did not cower for long, shoving himself forward. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he wheeled past Asami, who kept his arms extended which forced Akihito to stay behind him. The photographer wiggled as he tried to get around his lover. Unfortunately for him, the fixer expected the boy to try to get into the action, and reacted preemptively to his every move. Akihito groaned in frustration, but it was drowned out by the woman’s shrieks. 

The Kuchisake-onna lunged forward with a loud scream. Her talons glinted like razors under the fluorescent light. It looked like she was going to rip the man apart with her bare hands. “Dude!” Kou shouted to him from across the room. He wanted Akihito to drop the nets, even though she wasn’t in the perfect position. 

Suoh and Kirishima were rushing forward. One set of hands pulled Asami and Akihito away, the other blur reached for Yukimura. Imaru screamed in terror from somewhere behind them. What surprised Akihito the most was Takashi leaping forward. Arms wrapping around the thief, he jerked her to his chest. Suoh was able to pull Yukimura’s chair away just enough that as the thief fell through the air, the grad student pulling her back, her sharp claws missed the man’s skeletal face. 

They landed on the floor with a loud clatter. Akihito pressed the red button on his remote control, and the nets fell from the ceiling. As did all of the ropes and pulleys, as well as the gears. The entire trap collapsed on the two. Takashi threw himself over the half naked woman, shielding her with his body. Chunks of plaster fell between the thick ropes, and a small dust cloud pooled around their feet. 

In the center of the room, Takashi and the Kuchisake-onna lay on the floor, entangled in the nets. The monster was flattened by the grad student, a shocked look on her face. The blood had smeared on the floor, clumping in her hair. Takashi quickly sat on his knees, holding his hands above his head, which poked through the net. The woman pushed herself up onto her hands, which thrust her chest forward. 

“You caught her!” Yukimura clapped his hands together in excitement. He grinned at Akihito, another gory sight to behold. “You actually caught her in that god-awful contraption!”

Asami stared at it in disbelief. Kirishima and Suoh were equally gobsmacked. There was no way that that would have worked. The physics were impossible, the whole thing looked jury-rigged. No one trusted Akihito’s engineering ability. The fact that no one was dead yet was a small miracle in of itself. Kou started forward but Furuta grabbed his wrist. There was no way that he would let Takaba-san’s friend get mauled by the monster now that she was cornered, especially since she had already targeted the brunet once before. 

“Shit! Fuck! Shit! Shit!” Takashi swore. The guards rushed forward, ready to apprehend the woman. The nerd struggled to free himself from the net and take his shirt off at the same time. He dropped it on the woman’s head, so that she could cover herself. 

“Takashi?” Wanatabe gasped. He did not expect his star student to rush to the thief’s aid. “What’s going on?” 

“I think we would all like to know that,” Asami kept his lover behind him. The girl glared at them all. He had not thought that the graduate student was involved. Using his large hands, Takashi wiped the makeup off of her face, revealing a stunning girl. She was a handful of years older than he was, and looked very much like him. Akihito felt the air leave his body. Finally, they could see the face of the Kuchisake-onna. Lifting his camera up to his chest, Akihito did not hesitate to snap a photo. He did not have to look through his viewfinder to know that he had caught an award winning photo.

“Mahana!”’ Takashi gasped wetly. Shrugging the net off of them, he pulled the woman up to her knees, and tugged the tee shirt over her naked chest. “Sensei, it’s my sister!” 

The pretty girl glanced at her brother. For a moment, Akihito thought he saw remorse flit through her bright eyes, the same eyes on Takashi’s face, but as Yukimura wheeled closer to the bound girl, anger clouded her gaze.

“Furuwasa Mahana?” the crippled wheezed loudly. His breath was labored, his lungs crushed when his limo exploded. He would always sound like he was seconds way from drawing his last breath. “Not you. No. I’m impossible. Not my pretty little girl.”

Mahana’s enraged scream reverberate in the large room, bouncing off the relics and ringing in the rafters. She lunged for the old man, but her feet were tangled in the nets. The brunette fell forward, landing hard on her chin. Suoh had stepped forward to block her assault, though it was unnecessary. Yukimura pulled him back. “Away with you,” he pitifully wheezed. “My little Hana,” he gasped. “What have you done?”

“I am not yours,” Mahana shrieked, wet tears gathering in her eyes. 

“Look at me! Look at me!” Falling to the floor, Takashi grabbed ahold of the struggling girl’s waist and put a steadying hand on her chin. He pulled them together, until their forehead’s touched. Mahana’s chest heaved as she quietly sobbed. “What are you doing, Hana? What did you do?”

“I hate him,” the woman cried. “I absolutely despise him.”

“Why?” Takashi shook his head in disbelief. “How do you even know him?”

“He was in the car with Mom,” she whispered lowly. Luckily, even very low noise echoed in the large atrium, so they all heard the disturbing confession. “It’s his fault she was hurt.”

The dead mistress, Akihito realized. She had allegedly been killed during the arranged accident, penance for Yukimura’s greed. There had never been even a rumor that the two had children during their affair, so clearly the two were not Yukimura’s. Takashi did not even know the man! 

There was only one flaw in the recluse’s cover story, one that had been glossed over with a quiet efficiency. Furuwasa Noemi had never made a public appearance after the fiery explosion, so the world accepted her death with all the grace afforded a wanton woman. “Your mother isn’t dead,” Akihito whispered in awe. He remembered Takashi’s conversation with his sister, this woman, about someone needing to check in on their invalid mother. 

“No,” Mahana’s glare was venomous. “He lied about that. Her entire body was burned, but she is still alive.”

Yukimura bristled. “I took good care of you after the accident,” he told the girl. “I provided more than enough money for the two of you to live on comfortably. The three of you eventually,” he glowed at Takashi. The grad student recoiled in surprise at the intensity of the man’s hate. He had never met his mother’s ex-lover, nor had he paid nay part in Mahana’s revenge. 

The elder sister, oh so protective of her baby brother, saw it too. “Don’t you dare look at him like that!” she snarled, as ferocious a rabid wolf. “He didn’t have anything to do with this! It was all me!”

“Why, Hana?” Takashi tried to understand. His mind was reeling. He had only seen his unscarred mother in photographs. His sister obviously blamed Yukimura Aoishi for Furuwasa Noemi’s fate, but stealing from him could not heal her. “It isn’t because we’re poor, is it?” his face flushed from embarrassment. “You work with Simusu-san! I work! We’re not starving!”

“Revenge,” the girl rose to her knees, her shoulders heaving as rage fueled her breaths. “She still loves you, you know,” she told the gaping Yukimura. “Even though you abandoned her for a younger woman and an older statue. After all this time, she still smiles when she talks about you.”

His shoulders dropped low. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about her, child. Or you,” he tried to smile, but it was too much effort. “I miss you both.”

Mahana shrieked a bone chilling laugh. “Liar,” her large eyes stared directly at the collector. “She was used up and you discarded her with the garbage by sending us to Osaka. You didn’t return her calls, sent her letters back unopened. I remember the last time, when four police officers in full uniform, knocked on our door and threatened her to stay away from you. Takashi was a few months old. One of the men threatened to shoot him if she kept pestering you, was the word he used. You can talk about the past as if you loved us, as if you loved her, but you don’t. You never did.”

“What?” Takashi reeled back in shock, like his sister’s declaration had burned him. 

All heads swiveled to look at the man in the wheelchair. His cragged face was grim with acceptance. He didn’t have to say anything. Everyone could see Mahana’s accusations were true. 

“What do the statues have to do with any of this?” Asami demanded. Yukimura and the Furuwasas had forgotten about their audience, for they had become so involved with the past. Yukimura reeled back, as if Asami’s voice electrocuted him. Mahana stuck out her chin defiantly, unashamed of her actions. She did not know that Asami could have her executed for this. 

“He wanted that statue so much that he was willing to sacrifice anything for it, my mother included. I was going to take it from him, let him suffer as she did without the one she loved the most.”

Whoa. That was some deep shit, as far as Akihito was concerned. Mahana kept talking. “I knew that I would never be able to get close to the kappa as a civilian. Security guards would keep me away. So I slid on a mask.”

“The Kuchisake-onna?” the fixer clarified. Surely other masks were more convenient. A ski mask, for example, could easily be pulled over the head for identification obstruction and was much easier to use than costume blood. 

“It seemed so fitting,” Furuwasa Mahana replied. “The Kuchisake-onna was about physicality. It was a monster he created, so to speak. Also,” she smiled self-deprecatingly as she shrugged her now covered shoulders. “I have a flare for the dramatic.”

Kou snorted. That was the understatement of the year. Mahana turned to her brother. “I am sorry about Keiko, though. I never,” she took a dry, heaving sob that seemed to rattled her ones. “Never…thought…never wanted to hurt…her…”

Takashi crushed his sister’s head to her chest. She was almost a decade older than her brother, so it was difficult to watch the woman come undone as the gravity of her actions sunk in. Akihito’s heart broke for them.  

“You obtained the blueprints from Simusu’s office,” Asami finally relaxed his hold on the photographer. “And that’s how we received the outdated ones. You didn’t want us to block your escape routes.”

Mahana nodded. “Yes,” she sniffed. “Simusu knew. He knew all about you,” she gestured to the cripple. “It’s why he pulled out of the renovation project. It was on my behalf.” The architect had been a second father to both her and Takashi. His wife was the nurse who had cared for Noemi during her time in the hospital. The two families had stayed close during the years. Takashi was good friends with Simusu’s grandson, Mayeda. 

“Where are the statues now?” Yukimura swallowed. His voice wavered, his throat was dry. He was so much more interested in Furuwasa Noemi and her children, but he had an image to maintain. The relics were priceless. Having sacrificed so much for them, he would feel foolish if it were to all be in vain. He would have lost everything precious in his life. 

“I threw them in the ocean,” Mahana sneered. “I didn’t want them, and I didn’t want the money, either.” It had felt so good to listen to the kerplunk as the stone had hit the water. Watching it sink was a cathartic balm, letting her heal so that she could move on with her life. 

“You what?” Mori shrieked. He pressed a hand to his chest, his heart hammering. His precious relics, more like Yukimura’s children rather than objects, were gone forever, lost to the briny abyss of the ocean floor. The fat man struggled to breathe, his body failing him as panic set in. 

“Mahana,” Takashi gasped, equally perturbed by his sister’s disregard for history. 

“Let them rot,” she pulled a hand through her hair. She sneered, but it was weak. Her revenge suddenly felt hollow as the truth sunk in. Her victory did not cure her mother’s burns, nor quench the anger in her soul. She had caused undue suffering––on Keiko, on her family, on Asami––and had nothing to show for it. 

“I couldn’t bear it,” Yukimura gasped wetly. Mahana threw her head back, long hair flailing as she looked at the broken man. “I couldn’t bear to let her see me this way. She was so, so young, so vivacious, so full of life.” Shaking hands gestured to his shriveling body. “It was better if she never saw me again.”

“Never saw you?” Takashi reed back. He looked mortified that the old man would say such a thing.

“She wouldn’t have seen you in your chair, you simple minded piece of shit!” Mahana stood, nets forgotten. “Her entire body burned in that fire, eyes and all! She hasn’t been able to see anything for the past twenty-five years! She never got to see her son! She’ll never see her grandchildren! You would have known that if you had bothered to check in on us even once!” 

Yukimura threw a hateful glare at Takashi, who was now fuming alongside his sister. “She hasn’t suffered for companionship,” he muttered.

Mahana’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, her lips formed a giant ‘O’. She wildly flailed around as she grabbed at her own head. “Companionship,” her breathless cry was almost silent. She locked eyes with Yukimura, anger clearing her vision. “He’s your fucking son, you son of a bitch!” She stabbed her nail into her brother’s chest. 

“My son?” Yukimura’s jaw unhinged. Akihito was pretty sure that his mouth was on the floor Scooby Doo style. This was some daytime talking shit: level Jerry Springer. “My son?” he repeated. “I have a son?” 

Now everyone looked at Takashi, who had fallen to his knees in surprise. His entire body had gone slack, his eyes protuberant from his disbelief. Yukimura shook his head slowly in terrified denial. “No…she never…never told me. Noemi…?”

“How could she?” snarled the apoplectically irate Mahana. “You shipped us off to Osaka, and refused to talk to her! You returned her letters unopened! Blocked her calls! You did everything in your power to shut her out of your life!” Mahana had only been eight, but she remembered those following months vividly. Her mother’s face was as pale as the moonlight, but as lumpy a toad’s skin. She was covered with deeps pits and jagged scars from the skin transplants, some abominable Frankenstein monster. Thick tears fell from her eyes, blinded by a milky film, as she rocked in the rocking chair, cradling her swollen stomach. 

“I didn’t…I never…My son!” Yukimura wailed. His hands shook as he reached for the speechless boy. 

“Don’t touch him!” Mahana leapt between them. Akihito winced. Damn the woman had a set of lungs on her. She didn’t need any gadgets to enhance the Kuchisake-onna’s screams. 

“I’m sorry,” the old man’s eyes were clamped shut, trying to keep back the scintillating tears that slipped out anyway. “It’s all my fault. I was so afraid that she would leave me when she saw I could no longer walk. I was so afraid––“

Yukimura collapsed on himself. He clutched his balding head, and sobbed loudly. Takashi still knelt, incoherent on the floor. Mahana stood in front of him protectively. The rest of them watched from the sidelines, aghast and appalled. Yukimura’s wails echoed louder than the Kuchisake-onna’s ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone see it coming? Maybe not the drama, but did you figure out in general who it was? Or was it too let field? I'm not the best mystery writer, so IDK if I made it too vague. 
> 
> See you all soon! Have a great weekend!


	7. Vainglorious

“So that’s what a hundred thousand yen photo looks like,” Asami smirked at the front page article. The screaming monster was lunging at the reader, sharp teeth snarling as black eyes bulged out of her skeletal head. The sight of it still chilled Akihito the bone. 

“Yup,” the photographer glanced at his lover. Asami sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper cover to cover while Akihito cooked breakfast. It was a celebratory meal, a jewel in the crown of the celebratory week. Akihito’s front page spread rocked all of Japan. The monster was not real, but a sad woman overcome by anger. The exposition peeled away the protective layers Yukimura Aoishi built up since the explosion. Akihito alleged that it was that explosion that disfigured her mother and maimed Yukimura that triggered Mahana’s psychosis. The exhibition was the catalyst. “How many pancakes do you want?”

His article blatantly thrust Yukimura and the Furuwasa family. The old codger had never been happier. “How big are they?” Asami asked, reading the boy’s story. Not only did he photograph the winning picture, but the exposition was earning him a tidy sum. The story was big enough that Akihito was actually interviewed on the evening news. Asami insisted on taping that, much to the photographer’s embarrassment. 

Akihito shrugged. “Pretty big.” And he was going to toss chocolate chips into the batter as well. A breakfast fit for a king. 

“One will suffice,” Asami turned the page. 

Akihito rolled his eyes. “You are no fun,” he teased as he flipped the pancake onto the plate. 

“How is Kou handling Mahana?” the fixer tried to sound disinterested, but his lover knew better. There was a smile in the question, a curiosity for gossip. 

“Pretty good, actually,” Akihito chuckled. Furuwasa Mahana was set to a psychiatric hospital the same night, where she received nearly a week of intense therapy. Yukimura refused to press chargers. Upon her release, she moved into his mansion along with her mother and brother in an attempt to be a family. Furuwasa Noemi had been flown in from Osaka that same night, and her reunion with Yukimura was full of tears and laughter. The man had not even blinked at her scarred body as he pulled the blind woman into his arms. Even Mahana had smiled. “He likes flirting with an older woman.”

That was the most surprising part of it all. Mahana actually did think Kou was pretty, which grossed Akihito out but he kept that to himself. At her therapist’s insistence, Mahana apologized to all of those she had wronged during her revenge. Kou swore it was not a big deal and had even given her his number so that he could take her out on a date when she was feeling up to it. That was four dates ago, and Kou couldn’t wipe that stupid self-satisfied smirk off of his face. 

“I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s getting kinky sex, soon,” the photographer said conversationally. 

Asami rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what he was worried about.”

Akihito snickered, “You know Kou.”

“Not as well as you or Furuwasa, but I’m not going to complain,” was the snarky response. 

Asami had been right about Saito and Yonosuke. They had not been involved with Mahana at all. Rather, Yonosuke’s son with a criminal record had tried to get a job at Sion. He had been jailed for theft but lied on his application Yonosuke asked Saito to put in a good word for the boy, and intervene if the arrest records were found. Apparently, he really needed a job and Asami paid well. 

“Whaddaya think?” Akihito set Asami’s plate in front of the man and then sat beside him. He nodded towards the paper. “Good enough for the reward?”

Rather than go through with it, Saito confessed to Suoh before the fixer had time to confront him about the deception. Yonosuke was promptly fired and his son was not hired by Sion. Saito received a bonus for his honesty.

“An impressive feat of investigative journalism,” the fixer folded the newspaper. “I expect I’ll see reprints for at least the next month.”

“And follow ups,” Akihito smothered his stack with butter flavored syrup. “Lots of follow ups.”

“Hmm,” Asami watched the boy stuff an entire pancake into his mouth. “Take smaller bites,” he chastised. “Don’t choke yourself for a bigger bite.”

Akihito swallowed loudly. “Can’t help it,” he licked the sticky syrup off of his bottom lip. “It’s tasty.”

He was compiling a photobook about the antiquity exhibit. The stone kappa would be the cover picture, though it wasn’t a photo taken by Akihito. It seemed appropriate though, considering how it started all of this. The book wasn’t due to his publisher for another three months, and already his friends were asking for autographs. Asami mentioned in passing that his mother wanted one for her coffee table, which made Akihito almost choke on his beer. The fact that Asami wasn’t teasing made it even worse. Japan clamored for any news about the reclusive Yukimura, the sordid mistress or the alleged arson of Hamato. They were going to sink their teeth into this scandal for several more months, and Akihito was going to be in the center of it. 

Akihito’s article was so long that it continued on the seventh page. Asami continued reading while he ate. The photographer munched contentedly on his pancakes, looking at the words but not really reading them. He had read that stupid thing so much during editing that he could practically recite it word for word. Eventually, his eyes came to rest on the picture of a young Furuwasa Noemi, smiling as she held a four year old Mahana. Contrary to popular belief, Mahana was not Yukimura’s daughter, but the product of a one night stand with an undisclosed man. Noemi took up with Yukimura a few years after her daughter was born, and the man had become a surrogate father to her until the accident. 

“Do you think that they will make it?” Akihito broke the companionable silence. 

Asami stopped reading immediately. Seeing down his fork, he looked his lover in the eye. “What do you mean?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling. 

Akihito sensed his trepidation. A long time ago, he would have thought that Asami was bored, only indulging him in conversation because Akihito would not shut up. Now he knew his lover well enough to understand the man’s controlled emotions. Asami felt things just like any other human. He was just better at pretending not to. The photographer motioned the young, smiling mother. “Do you think that Yukimura and the Furuwasas will be able to move on from this? To forgive each other.”

“They seem to be willing to make an attempt,” answered the golden eyed man. 

“I know. But I mean,” Akihito fumbled for the right words. “He just abandoned them, really. Like when they needed him the most, he was too vain. Or maybe he thought Noemi was going to be too shallow to look past his paraplegia. I don’t know, but it seems like all of this was caused by Yukimura’s pride.”

“The human ego is fragile, easily broken thing, Akihito,” the fixer replied. “And rather than risk injury to it, he pushed away those he loved.”

“He chose himself over his family, you mean,” the blond argued. 

“He hurt them before they could hurt him.”

Akihito shook his head, his shoulders bobbing. “I don’t know, it seems stupid to me.”

“Most people are stupid. And pride has fueled wars, and destroyed lives as well as countries. It’s not surprising that it would end a relationship.”

“It shouldn’t,” snapped the boy. “Not if you really love somebody.”

Asami took a sip of his black coffee. “Your ability to love has always been astounding,” he said. “Most people aren’t as strong as you.”

“I’m not talking about me,” Akihito interrupted his lover. “That’s not the point. If you were hideously burned or if some baddy shoots you and you can’t walk, I wouldn’t leave you. Not ever. Because when you love someone, you’re supposed to stick together through thick and thin.” Just because Yukimura was afraid to trust Furuwasa implicitly did not excuse his actions.

“Fear makes people act foolishly,” Asami surmised the situation neatly. His eyes narrowed as he pushed the paper away. Akihito’s heartbeat quickened at the predatory look in those golden eyes. “As for you leaving, I wouldn’t let you.”

“It’s not always your choice,” Akihito argued just to be contrary. He never really intended to leave Asami. even if he was all burnt up like the marshmallow in a s’more.

“In this instance, it is,” Asami pushed his chair back from the table. Akihito’s stomach clenched. That was never a good sign. “You are mine, and you are not escaping me under any circumstance.”

Akihito tried to get away from the table but Asami was too fast. Pulling the boy’s chair out, he easily tossed Akihito over his shoulder. The blond laughed and flailed half heartedly. “Hey!” 

“It seems like I need to remind you of that,” the fixer smacked his bouncing ass. Tossing the photographer onto the bed, Asami straddled him. “It’s Sunday. We have the entire day to ourselves.”

Fuck it, that was just a little bit too hot as far as Akihito was concerned. He had been half hard all morning, and now he was painfully horny. Pulling the fixer down for a wet kiss, he murmured to himself, “I’ll do a follow up for the photobook.” Yeah, that would be good. People would love to see the good parts of Yukimura and Furuwasa’s relationship. It would a love conquers all type thing, and something about forgiveness. He could work forgiveness as an act of love into the story. That would definitely put a positive spin on a crazy story.

Asami pulled away with an affronted glare. “That’s the last thing you should be thinking about,” he jerked Akihito’s shirt off. His chatoyant eyes gleamed possessively. He had an animalistic snarl on his face which relayed the trouble that the photographer’s ass was in. The blond was going to be sore tomorrow. Walking would probably be out of the question. “You meddling kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me until the end. I appreciate you all. I hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hahahaha I really like Scooby Doo. So this will be short (following the thirty-minute cartoon plot points), but fun to read. It is going to have creeptastic elements, though. I mean, it is Viewfinder, and it needs just a little bit of gore. 
> 
> Hopefully this comes off as plausible, if not realistic.


End file.
